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THE  LOST  EMPIRE 


The  Lost  Empire 

By 
JAMES  R.  E.  CRAIGHEAD 


Illustrated  by 

Elizabeth  M.  Fisher 


Distributed  by 
The  Bond  Publishing  Company 

OSWEGO.  ILLINOIS 


Copyright  1926  by 
James  R.  E.  Craighead 


PRINTED   IN  THE  U.   S.   A.   BY 

FOX  VALLEY  POINTING  COMPANY 

AURORA,   ILLINOIS 


^vit 


INTRODUCTION 

"The  Lost  Empire"  is  a  conglomerate,  in  which 
traditions,  fancies,  facts  and  tales  of  Starved  Rock 
and  other  points  related  to  it  during  the  period  of 
French  occupancy  are  preserved  in  the  form  of  blank 
verse.  It  purports  to  be  a  description  of  places  and 
events  connected  with  the  building  of  Fort  St.  Louis 
in  1682.  The  persons  figuring  in  these  scenes  are 
LaSalle,  Tonti,  D'Autray,  certain  Indian  chiefs,  woods- 
men, priests,  soldiers,  Redmen,  an  Iroquois  spy  Mon- 
ongonee,  his  adopted  daughter  Neonee,  and  LaSalle's 
hunter-guide  Ottonoway. 

The  composition  came  about  in  this  manner.  Sev- 
eral years  ago  I  took  a  Troop  of  Boy  Scouts  from 
Oswego,  Illinois,  to  camp  at  Starved  Rock  Park.  The 
natural  attractions  of  the  place  appealed  greatly  to  all 
of  us,  and  I  tried  to  find  something  in  story  form  at 
the  hotel  news  stand  which  I  could  tell  to  the  boys 
around  the  camp  fire.  Not  a  shred  of  anything  ro- 
mantic was  to  be  had,  however,  so  I  was  compelled 
to  wait  until  a  later  time  to  discover  any  such  material. 
In  the  meantime  my  brain  cells  began  to  project  their 
own  creations,  especially  since  sleep  did  not  come  read- 
ily with  the  care  of  two  dozen  lively  boys  on  my  hands. 
In  the  stillness  of  the  night  while  the  whippoorwills 
wailed  all  around  the  camp  and  an  owl  boomed  occa- 


sionally  from  his  tree  in  the  vicinity  of  Wild  Cat  Can- 
yon, the  glens  became  peopled  with  Indians  once  more, 
and  La  Salle  and  his  companions  began  to  figure  quite 
realistically  in  my  visions. 

Since  then  I  have  tried  to  become  better  acquainted 
with  these  characters,  without  neglecting  other  duties 
and  have  greatly  enjoyed  the  little  journeys  made  into 
the  historic  conditions  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago. 

Certain  of  the  incidents  described  in  the  volume 
took  place  in  the  valleys  of  the  Illinois,  Vermilion, 
Richelieu  and  St.  Lawrence  and  the  collation  of  these 
;events  has  helped  to  make  this  composition  a  con- 
glomerate. 

For  the  sake  of  convenience  the  material  has  been 
arranged  in  six  books  of  four  divisions  each.  The 
first  division  of  each  of  these  has  little  to  do  with  the 
story  attempted  but  seeks  to  suggest  the  setting  of  what 
follows,  and  if  one  will  attempt  to  visualize  the  scenes 
under  the  conditions  of  the  period  portrayed  and  in 
the  surroundings  preserved  in  one  of  our  most  historic 
Parks  of  the  Middle  West,  some  of  the  pleasure  the 
writer  enjoyed  in  penning  these  pages  will  be  realized 
by  the  reader.     This  at  least  is  my  sincere  desire. 

Oswego,  Illinois  Jas.  R.  E.  Craighead. 

June  3,  1926 


CONTENTS 
Book  I. 

1.  Starved  Rock 1 

2.  The  Coming  of  La  Salle 3 

3.  The  Canyons 12 

4.  The  Buffalo  Hunt 16 

Book  II. 

1.  The  Indian 23 

2.  The  Assembly 24 

3.  The  Council 29 

4.  The  Enemy 36 

Book  III. 

1.  The  Frontiersmen 45 

2.  The  Building  of  the  Fort 47 

3.  D'Autray's  Story 52 

4.  Monongonee 61 

Book  IV. 

1.  Their  Homely  Joys 65 

2.  Tonti's  Mission 61 

3.  The  Opening  of  the  Fort 73 

4.  The  Calumet  Dance 84 

Book  V. 

1.  The  Deepening  of  the  Spring 91 

2.  The  Canyon  of  the  Deer 93 

3.  Neonee 97 

4.  As  Flies  the  Crow 103 

Book  VI. 

1.  The  August  Blight 107 

2.  La  Salle's  Lament 108 

3.  The  Iroquois 112 

4.  The  Lover's  Leap 120 


BOOK  I. 

1.    STARVED  ROCK 

Earth  spreads  her  map  of  wonders  round  this  Rock 

And  tells  a  pageant  story  of  the  past, 

Of  epochs  reckoned  by  a  million  years, 

Of  countless  dynasties  of  bird  and  beast, 

Of  battles  waged  in  elemental  wars, 

And  wreck  of  mountains  overturned;  and  rocks 

Upheaved  and  gored  by  glaciers'  grinding  horns, 

Till  nature  spread  upon  the  scarred  remains 

Her  healing  robe  and  bound  the  gaping  wounds 

And  wooed  the  mangled  form  to  life  again. 

Or  should  the  gleaming  river  on  her  course 
Like  some  fair  creature  in  her  turn  respond 
With  whispers  such  as  happy  lovers  use, 
And  tell  what  scenes  her  never  sleeping  eyes 
Beheld  upon  her  banks,  and  all  that  pressed 
Upon  her  breast  in  hopeful  argosy 
And  daring  enterprise,  and  love's  brave  quest, 
Her  narrative  were  rich  with  history's  lore. 

To  catch  these  tales  and  whispers  of  the  past 
My  pen  essays,  and  neath  the  plume-like  pines, 
The  stalwart  oaks,  the  vine-draped  shelves  of  cliff 
My  soul  would  come  as  reverent  pilgrim  might 


2  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Within  the  temple  gates  to  praise  his  God; 
For  here,  as  at  bleak  Horeb's  cave  are  left 
The  marks  of  power,  in  water-carven  glen, 
And  highway  cloven  to  the  sea  by  flood, 
To  show  Who  passed  this  way  in  majesty. 
And  still  the  surety  of  His  presence  bides 
On  quiet  meadows  sleeping  in  the  sun; 
On  waters  glinting  soft  beneath  the  stars, 
On  islands  fringed  by  sharp-reflected  trees, 
On  forests  stirring  restless  as  the  sea, 
On  cliff-bound  hills  fresh-scarred  by  Labor's  hand, 
On  homesteads  where  the  seals  of  peace  are  set, 
On  cities  where  the  smoky  pillars  rest. 

Here  underneath  these  blue  and  bending  skies 

Which  smile  o'er  leagues  of  fertile  valley  fields, 

The  Indians  built  their  rude  metropolis, 

And  ploughed  the  river  with  their  bark  canoes. 

Here  on  this  vantage  Rock  the  Frenchmen  stood 

And  dreamed  of  Empire  stretched  from  Sea  to  Gulf, 

Where  wafted  lilies  of  the  fleur-de-lis, 

And  rose  the  cross  on  myriad  stately  spires. 

Here  Destiny  a  shifting  fortune  framed 

And  passed  the  scepter  to  the  English  power 

Which  in  its  turn  gave  way  to  nobler  sons 

Who  sought  the  larger  freedom  of  the  soul. 

So  enter  in  with  me  these  templed  haunts 
Which  lie  around  our  famous  northern  Rock, 
And  listen  whilst  my  silvan  Muse  relates 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  3 

The  whispers  of  the  water  and  the  wood; 
The  weird  traditions  of  the  races  gone. 

2.    THE  COMING  OF  LA  SALLE 

Above  La  Vantum's  range  of  wooded  hills 
The  sun  hung  low  among  the  opal  mists 
Which  marked  the  Indian  summer's  late  decline, 
When  up  the  western  waterway  that  flowed 
Before   *Kaskaskia's  stretch  of   Redmen's  huts 
Four  birch  canoes  pressed  steadily  against 
The  placid  river's  course  until  abreast 
The  village,  where  hut,  lodge,  and  wigwam  lay 
As  though  asleep  within  the  drowsy  haze. 
No  warriors  lounged  upon  the  vacant  grounds, 
Nor  naked  children  played  upon  the  paths, — 
The  hush  of  evening  rested  on  the  place 
And  stillness  brooded  like  a  nesting  dove. 
Apprized  of  this  unwonted  quietude 
The  men  within  their  laden  vessels  paused, 
And  he  who  led  the  fleet  of  water  craft 
Gave  silent  signal  to  the  voyageurs, 
And  guardedly  the  paddlers  put  to  shore. 
Here  council  for  a  moment  stayed  advance, 
And  then  the  leader  with  his  Indian  guide 
Went  up  the  river  bank  and  crossed  the  space 
Which  lay  between  the  stream  and  silent  town. 

A  master  was  this  captain  of  the  band, 

*The   French   name   of  the  town,   La  Vantum,    and   the   Indian    name, 
Kaskaskia  are  used  interchangably. 


4  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Who  strode  the  path  with  purpose  in  his  tread, 
Commanding,  straight  as  is  the  mountain  pine, 
An  Atlas  in  his  strength,  his  gray  eye  lit 
With  that  strange  fire  the  visionary  gleans 
In  hope's  mirage  and  evanescent  dreams. 
An  eagle  feather  crowned  his  beaver  cap 
And  beaded  moccasins  encased  his  feet, 
His  deerskin  raiment  hung  with  easy  grace 
Upon  a  sinewy  form  of  regal  mold. 
No  weapen  in  his  hand  he  bore,  but  held 
With  careful  grasp  a  carven  calumet 
And  so  advanced  upon  the  Indian  town. 
Beside  him  moved  with  lithe  and  agile  tread 
His  youthful  hunter-guide,  Ottonoway, 
Who  though  descended  from  an  eastern  tribe 
Had  ranged  these  western  wilds  for  thirty  moons 
In  wider  training  for  his  chief's  estate, 
And  knew  each  watercourse  and  woodland  trail, 
And  lore  of  prairie,  wilderness  and  lake 
As  though  a  sachem  of  this  far  domain. 

So  moved  these  two  across  the  open  space, 

And  soon  they  saw  a  squaw  among  the  huts 

And  in  the  sunshine  near  her  on  the  ground 

An  aged  chief  sat,  too  old  to  longer  bend 

The  white-ash  bow  and  follow  in  the  chase. 

These   they   approached.      The   Indians   sensing  quick 

The  leader  to  be  French  betrayed  no  fear. 

With  gentle  grace  the  stranger  straightway  said, 

"I  am  La  Salle  who  but  two  winters  since 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Passed  on  these  waters  to  the  west.     When  here 

The  Iroquois  had  done  their  hellish  work, 

And  if  I  mark  aright  I  saw  you  then 

With  others  of  your  tribe  removed  far  south. " 

Addressed  in  terms  of  such  respect  which  spared 

The  feelings  of  a  chief  who  once  had  fled 

Before  his  foes  the  old  man  made  reply 

And  gave  impassive  welcome  to  his  guests 

With  answer  to  each  question  asked.     "The  braves,' 

Said  he,  "had  left  at  noon  to  start  the  drive 

Of  buffalo  toward  the   rock  upstream 

And  with  the  morning  run  them  to  the  kill; 

Tomorrow  there  will  be  much  meat  in  camp 

And  still  a  larger  stock  the  following  day, 

And  if  you  strangers  share  our  lodge,  the  braves 

Will  give  you  fitting  welcome  on  return." 

To  him  La  Salle  replied  that  with  his  men 
He'd  camp  beside  the  Rock  across  the  stream, 
And  later  might  return.     This  said,  he  left 
And  soon  again  the  birchen  water-craft 
The  current  crossed  toward  the  southern  shore. 
From  far  the  paddlers  saw  the  castled  crag 
Rise  gray  and  seamed  above  the  shining  flood, 
The  white  pine  clinging  on  its  dizzy  shelves 
And  pushing  up  with  stunted  growth  to  brush 
Their  boughs  against  the  roots  of  other  trees 
On  loftier  foothold  till  their  free  tops  waved 
Defiant  as  the  plume  on  warrior's  crest. 
A  stone's  cast  from  the  Rock  the  trim  canoes 


6  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Were  brought  to  shore  and  speedily  the  camp 
Was  formed  and  fire  set  burning  to  prepare 
The  evening  meal. 

Meantime  the  Sieur  La  Salle 
With  D'Autray  as  companion,  took  a  trail 
That  led  through  sand  and  crumbling  rock  to  where 
Behind  the  bristling  crag's  bold  head  they  might 
Climb  up  and  gain  the  summit's  level  crest 
Where  waved  the  pines  their  signals  to  the  stream. 
This  Sieur  La  Salle  crossed  quickly  with  his  mate 
And  from  the  high  Rock's  edge  drew  back  a  limb 
Which  hid  the  view  in  part,  then  proudly  said, 
uSee,   is  it  not  as   I  described  the  site 
Where  France  shall  build  her  throne  and  here  retrieve 
The  loss  of  centuries."     Spell-bound  his  friend 
With  sweeping  gaze  looked  from  the  aeried  height 
Across  the  fertile  valley  to  the  hills 
Where  golden  Autumn  had  with  artist  hand 
Heaped  gorgeous  colors  in  profusion  wild, 
As  though  a  hundred  rainbows  there  had  broke 
And  left  the  river  winding  through  the  wreck 
Past  islands  weighted  with  their  summer's  yield 
Of  maize,  pawpaw,  squash,  grape  and  purpling  plum 
And  wilder  growth  amid  the  water  weeds. 
Far  northward  where  the  hunters  built  their  fires 
The  filmy  lines  of  smoke  bestreaked  the  sky, 
And  in  the  intervening  range  of  space 
Prairie  and  forest,  river,  vale  and  hill 
Gave  token  of  the  Redman's  paradise. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  7 

La  Salle's  companion  once  more  viewed  the  scene 

And  traced  the  rivers  island-studded  course 

From  east  to  west  until  the  silvery  stream 

Was  lost  in  evening's  shimmering  gray,  then  said, 

"It  is  indeed  a  wonder  spot."     La  Salle 

With  kindling  eye  then  spoke.     "In  all  the  leagues 

Between  the  Gulf  and  Canada  there  is 

No  spot  so  rich  in  promise  for  fair  France 

As  is  this  Rock  from  which  we  look  to-day. 

Here  may  be  set  the  key-stone  in  the  arch 

Of  our  defense  against  the  English  line; 

Here  made  the  rally  center  of  the  tribes 

To  fight  the  savage  Iroquois.     And  here 

On  this  high  Rock  our  guns  can  well  protect 

The  valley  fields;  our  fort  with  ease  defy 

Whatever  foes  appear;  and  from  this  base 

Boats  can  deploy  to  gather  stores  of  wealth 

And  make  secure  our  future  enterprise, 

Because  we  tap  an  El  Dorado's  source. 

We  then  shall  sail  by  Crevecour  and  Prudehomme 

And  out  upon  the  southern  Gulf  toward  France 

With  cargoes  of  such  pelts  that  merchants  there 

Shall  look  amazed  to  see  our  rich  supplies. 

The  biting  winds  of  ice-bound  Montreal, 

Three  Rivers  and  Quebec  we  can  avoid, 

And  from  the  frozen  regions  of  the  north 

Sail  happily  abroad  by  open  stream. 

Recall  our  lengthy  voyage  to  this  place! 

From  Green  Bay  up  the  Fox  we  passed,  then  crossed 

The  portage  to  Wisconsin's  winding  course 


8  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

And  followed  till  it  merged  with  *Colbert's  flood; 

Then  on  those  waters  to  this  river's  flow 

And  on  its  quiet  bosom  paddled  here. 

We've  noted  every  mark  betokening  growth 

Of  Empire  for  the  future  years  and  here 

Have  come  convinced  the  course  of  kingdom  lies 

Along  this  stream.     From  Anticosti's  isle 

To  where  at  Colbert's  distant  mouth 

We  nailed  the  arms  of  France,  I  say  again 

No  place  has  more  of  promise  than  this  Rock. 

Here  then  we'll  stem  the  wrath  of  savages, 

Here  bid  defiance  to  the  English  hordes, 

Here  win  a  greater  wealth  than  that  is  heaped 

In  old  Rochelle>,  and  lead  the  native  tribes 

To  Church  and  King.     On  lofty  hinder  plains 

Shall  rise  a  guardian  city  like  Quebec, 

The  while  our  fort  commands  the  water  way." 

Approvingly  Sieur  D'Autray  heard  his  friend, 

And  while  the  sunset  shadows  grew  they  talked 

Until  a  signal  from  the  camp  below 

Gave  warning  that  the  evening  meal  was  spread. 

Arriving  at  the  river's  sandy  marge 

They  fed  on  mallards  taken  in  the  swamps 

And  ate  their  corn-bread  warm  from  friendly  fire. 

While  seated  thus  beneath  the  trees  they  saw 
A  graceful  craft  swing  round  the  point  below, 
And  deftly  plied  by  skillful  hands,  approach 
Their  feasting  place.     The  little  vessel  skirred 

•The  name  formerly  given  to  the  Mississippi  river. 


THE   PADDLE    STAYED   THE   LITTLE   BARQUE   AT    POISE 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  9 

The  river  like  a  feather  blown  in  air; 

An  Indian  squaw  sat  stolid  in  the  stern 

And  standing  just  before  a  lissome  girl 

With  practiced  hand  her  paddle  dipped  and  pressed 

Against  the  water's  yielding  breast.     She  seemed 

A  wood-nymph  happily  at  play;  her  skin 

Nut  brown,  her  gaudy  blanket  folded  round 

A  form  as  pliant  as  the  willow's  branch; 

Less  harsh  her  features  seemed  than  faces  known 

Throughout  these  western  wilds,  as  if  some  strain 

Of  alien  blood  was  coursing  through  her  veins. 

She  drove  her  boat  against  the  sluggish  flow 

Well  out  the  stream  until  abreast  the  group, 

Then  quickly  veered  her  craft  and  swiftly  shot 

Straight  shoreward  like  an   arrow   from  taut  string. 

The  feasting  circle  marked  the  deft  approach 
And  sensed  by  it  some  errand  of  respect. 
La  Salle  arose,  and  with  him  moved  his  guide 
To  station  closer  to  the  river's  edge. 
Like  bird  alighted  on  a  swaying  bough, 
The  paddle  stayed  the  little  barque  at  poise, 
The  while  the  elder  Indian  woman  spoke: 
"Chief  Mogree  sends  the  Sieur  this  further  word 
To  give  you  welcome  to  our  valley's  range, 
And  bid  you  wait  the  coming  of  our  braves 
That  they  more  fitting  tokens  may  bestow, 
But  these  accept  as  pledge  of  our  good  will." 
With  this  she  threw  a  blanket  back  and  there 
Disclosed  three  baskets  filled  with  plums,  pawpaws, 


10  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Persimmons,  nuts,  dried  berries,  corn, — such  store 
As  natives  gather  for  their  winter  use. 

With  courtly  grace  the  Sieur  La  Salle  replied, 

"We  count  it  honor  to  receive  these  gifts 

From  those  we  know  as  friends  in  toil  and  arms. 

Our  King  in  distant  France  whose  sway  we  owe 

Throughout  these  wide  and  ample  forest  lands 

Has  bade  us  live  at  peace  with  all  the  tribes 

And  add  the  lengthening  links  to  friendship's  chain 

Until  it  runs  through  every  hut  and  lodge 

And  binds  together  in  one  common  bond. 

Right  gladly  will  we  tarry  then  until 

Your  braves  return  and  council  can  be  held 

For  we  have  matters  to  propose  assured 

To  bring  advantage  to  your  noble  tribe; 

This  word  with  our  esteem  bear  to  your  chief." 

While  these  bland  courtesies  were  interchanged 
The  Indian  maiden's  glances  swept  the  scene, 
The  speaker's  face,  the  feasters  on  the  shore, 
The  camp's  disorder,  and  the  smoking  coals, 
Then  resting  on  the  leader's  hunter-guide 
She  saw  his  figure  straight  as  mountain  ash 
With  grace  and  strength  in  every  line.     His  face 
Immobile  as  a  mask  and  dark  of  hue, 
His  hafr  in  color  like  the  wing  of  crow, 
His  eye  as  keen  as  is  the  sparrow  hawk's 
To  read  the  secrets  of  the  thicket's  maze. 
Small  need  in  this  survey  Neonee  took 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  11 

To  sense  the  guide  was  of  a  forest  race 

And  of  a  tribe  remote,  but  still  her  gaze 

Was  centered  on  his  face  as  though  th#  fates 

Had  set  for  her  their  lodestone  on  his  brow 

And  there  proclaimed  the  cord  has  found  its  bow. 

And  he  in  turn  had  riveted  his  look 

On  her  as  though  some  long-expected  form 

Had  issued  from  the  land  of  dreams  and  stood 

Before  him  in  the  sunset  glow  and  mist. 

The  faintest  movement  only  of  the  hand 

He  made  unseen  by  all  save  her,  and  then 

He  moved  away,  the  forest  for  his  screen. 

Tomorrow  would  the  hunters  end  their  hunt, 

The  squaw  had  made  reply.     Then  promising 

To  take  La  Salle's  good  word  and  pledge  to  them, 

The  graceful  vessel  thrust  with  skill  from  shore 

And  drifted  downward  by  the  water's  edge. 

Some  little  distance  on  her  way  the  maid 

Beheld  again  amid  the  fringing  boughs, 

The  face  of  Sieur  La  Salle's  young  guide, — a  glimpse 

So  brief  it  might  have  been  a  flash  of  light 

Upon  the  leaves.     And  with  the  sight  she  heard 

A  heavy  note, — the  great  owl's  evening  call, 

And  in  response,  as  though  the  spell  of  dusk 

Were  on  her  soul,  she  sent  across  the  wave 

The  plaintive  sobbing  cry  of  whippoorwill; 

Then  bending  on  her  paddle  drove  her  craft 

With  happy  freedom  down  the  gilded  stream. 


12  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Thus  budding  love  despite  observing  eyes 
Its  first  expression  finds  and  grows  elate. 

The  youthful  hunter  to  the  group  returns 

And  later  asks  to  take  a  light  canoe 

And  seek  for  deer  along  the  river  shore; 

The  favor  granted  he  at  once  departs, 

Drops  slowly  down  the  stream  and  soon  is  lost 

In  deepening  shadows,  and  although  his  quest 

Is  long  delayed  and  sleep  has  claimed  the  camp 

When  he  returns  he  brings  no  venison, 

For  on  the  hill  above  the  Indian  town 

A  great  owl's  solemn  call  was  heard  that  eve 

And  in  the  cornfield  by  the  lodges'  shade 

A  mournful  whippoorwill's  reply  was  given, 

And  through  the  bottomlands  the  sounds  advanced 

Until  the  watchful  moon  told  listening  night 

That  lovers  of  a  forest  race  had  met. 

3.    THE  CANYONS 

With  morning's  crimson  in  the  eastern  sky 
The  camp  awoke.     In  stealth  the  red  fox  hid; 
From  watery  beds  the  wild  ducks  rose  and  called, 
Then  circled  swiftly  to  their  feeding  grounds; 
From  hickory  bough  the  squirrel  stripped  the  nut, 
While  circling  on  the  deadened  trunks  for  food, 
The  nut  hatch  sounded  sharp  his  nasal  notes; 
The  anxious  jays  with  shrill  protest  proclaimed 
The  presence  of  the  strangers  in  the  wood; 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  13 

Like  incense  rose  the  smoke  in  peaceful  cloud 
To  fill  the  forest  aisles,  and  once  again 
The  camp  bestirred  itself  to  active  life. 

Soon  from  the  bank  the  birch  canoes  were  pushed, 

And  paddled  slowly  by  the  wooded  shore, 

And  often  stayed  while  Sieur  La  Salle,  his  guide, 

And  D'Autray  ranged  the  bluffs  and  openings, 

Examined  closely  timber,  fauna,  shale, 

And  beetling  walls  of  curious  carven  cliff, 

And  found  strange  fashioned  wonders  on  their  way, — 

Here  rocky  piles  like  hives  of  bees  were  formed, 

And  there  again  like  ancient  pulpits  reared. 

A  yet  more  wild  confusion  in  the  glens 

Which  opened  to  their  wondering  gaze  they  found 

Where  woodbine,  ivy,  bracken,  bush  and  tree 

Struggled  for  life  among  the  protrate  rocks 

Released  from  dizzy  height  by  frost  and  flood. 

To  some  of  these  he  called  his  men  to  come 

And  view  the  handiwork  of  ages  gone, 

And  as  they  entered  awe  gave  place  to  jest, 

Then  crude  remarks  about  the  Devil's  art, 

And  horde  of  imps  who  here  had  made  their  home, 

Consorting  with  the  witches  and  the  gnomes. 

And  so  with  superstitious  names  and  terms 

They  titled  cavern,  cliff,  and  waterfall 

With  nomenclature  of  their  boorish  wit. 

One  spot  of  wildness  claimed  their  interest 

A  half  league  from  the  Rock.    Here  blackened  logs 


14  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Were  littered  on  a  little  wooded  plain 

Which  lay  before  the  opening  in  the  bluffs, 

And   half-burned  limbs   and  tree  trunks   strewed  the 

ground — 
Mute  symbols  of  past  cruel  tragedies. 
"This,"  said  their  guide,  "is  where  the  Iroquois 
Bring  in  their  prisoners  to  test  by  fire 
And  knife.     It  is  a  favorite  sport  of  theirs, 
And  what  these  hellish  butchers  do  is  told 
To  quiet  children  from  the  Huron  camp 
To  Natchez  by  the  Mississabe's  shore." 

The  voyageurs  appraised  the  scene  with  gaze 

Which  quickly  reckoned  with  the   features   shown, — 

A  forest  plain  along  the  river  shore 

A  tiny  brook,  a  lichened  cliff  beyond, 

Which  towered  above  the  lonely  gruesome  spot. 

They  followed  for  a  bow  shot's  space  the  stream, 

Then  where  it  forked  one  tributary  traced 

Through  tangled  underbrush,  o'er  fallen  trees, 

Neath  swaying  vines  and  shelves  of  pendent  fern, 

And  in  the  shade  of  poplar,  pine,  and  elm 

Until  the  pathway  stopped  against  a  wall 

Beside  a  pool  of  crystal  amethyst. 

A  mighty  rock  wrenched  from  the  height  above 

Amidst  a  perfect  maze  of  crimson  vines, 

Below  the  fissured  cascade's  flashing  lights, 

Stood  lonely  sentinel  to  guard  the  gem. 

Here  ropelike  woodbine  climbed  the  hoary  cliffs 

And  clutched  the  screening  treetops  high  o'erhead. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  15 

The  men  turned  back  and  sought  the  second  glen; 

This  branch  they  found  led  o'er  a  channel  hewn 

Through  stone  by  wasting  floods  of  ages  gone, 

And  following  it  they  came  at  length  to  see 

Wide  curving  shelves  of  cliff  o'er  which  there  fell 

With  rhythmic  sound  a  silvery  cataract. 

Thus  formed,  these  canyons  like  a  horse-shoe  vast, 

Reached  in  among  the  cliffs  and  left  the  heels 

Deep  bedded  in  the  rock,  whereas  the  toe 

Lay  resting  'gainst  a  level  stretch  of  ground 

Beside  the  brook.     It  was  an  eerie  spot 

From  whence  the  western  wall  of  bluff  drew  back 

As  though  to  flee  the  scenes  enacted  there; 

And  could  these  men  have  glimpsed  how  hidden  Fate 

Should,  ere  a  year  have  passed,  bring  them  again 

To  look  upon  this  tragic  plain  in  dress 

Of  fire  and  fury,  their  brave  hearts  had  quailed. 

But  future  scenes  in  mercy  are  withheld. 

All  through  the  morning  hours  the  voyageurs 
Pressed  on  by  stream  and  shore  from  glen  to  glen, 
And  came  at  length  upon  a  sandy  cave 
Carved  out  by  water's  action  from  the  hill 
And  rounded  like  a  huge  inverted  bowl 
One  side  of  which  seemed  shorn  away,  then  filled 
In  part  by  crumbling  rock  and  flood's  debris. 
Around  this  mound  the  gilded  maples  spread 
Their  leafy  folds  whence  fell  the  sun's  soft  rays 
Upon  the  little  group  which  sat  and  talked 
And  listened  as  Ottonoway  explained 


16  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

The  gathering  of  the  tribes  from  near  and  far, 
The  framing  of  their  treaties  and  their  laws, 
And  how  these  councils  kept  their  braves  in  check. 
He  showed  where  sat  the  old  men  of  the  tribes, 
Where  sat  the  chiefs  and  where  the  warriors  sat; 
He  told  of  speeches  made  and  belts  exchanged, 
And  how  they  smoked  the  calumet;  and  then 
He  pointed  to  the  totems  rudely  sketched 
Upon  the  walls  in  pledge  of  fealty. 

With  sign  and  simple  speech  he  told  his  tale 
And  so  beguiled  the  fleeting  hour  of  morn. 

4.    THE  BUFFALO  HUNT 

As  shifts  the  sun  unwearied  on  his  course, 

So  Sieur  La  Salle,  unresting,  led  his  men 

Along  the  river  trail  to  other  scenes. 

Once  more  they  drove  their  birchen  craft  upstream, 

Nor  stopped  again  until  they  came  abreast 

A  naked  cliff  upon  the  northern  shore. 

Here  suddenly  they  heard  sharp  yells  and  cries 

Resounding  on  the  high  plateau  o'erhead. 

They  saw  no  form1,  but  still  the  volume  grew, 

And  with  it  came  a  sound  like  thunder  deep 

Which  rolled  across  the  plain  with  surging  swell 

And  shoutings  mingling  on  the  morning  air. 

Each  man  within  his  craft  looked  to  his  gun 

In  readiness  against  surprise  from  foe, 

But  while  they  primed  their  flintlocks  for  the  fray 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  17 

And  wondered  at  the  savage  shouts  and  cries, 
This  strange  confusion  quickly  died  away. 

With  every  sense  alert  the  voyageurs 

Pulled  in  their  craft  to  shore  with  dexterous  hands, 

And  crept  along  the  narrow  marge  to  learn 

The  cause  of  this  wild  bedlam  on  the  heights. 

The  shouts,  they  knew  on  second  thought,  were  not 

The  challenge  of  the  Redman  to  his  foe, 

But  what  they  might  presage  they  vaguely  sensed, 

So  cautiously  they  found  a  landing  place 

And  stole  like  autumn  shadows  through  the  trees. 

They  did  not  know  the  spot  nor  that  at  dawn 

The  Indian  hunters  from  La  Vantum's  huts 

Had  placed  their  men  along  the  trails  far  north 

And  there  began  the  drive  of  buffalo 

Toward  the  wide  plateau  and  fatal  rock. 

As  silent  as  the  glowing  dawn  itself 

The  drive  began  and  silent  still  advanced, 

As  grew  the  herd  and  moved  toward  the  south 

Along  familiar  paths  and  grazing  lands. 

With  need  to  turn  the  course  a  hunter  rose 

And  steered  the  tide  of  grazing  life  at  will, 

Cut  out  the  mangy  bulls  which  followed  close, 

And  with  no  sound  nor  haste  pressed  on  the  rear 

And  urged  the  slow  advance  of  heavy  brutes. 

Down  from  the  higher  prairie  grazing  lands, 

By  way  of  rock-girt  paths  to  lower  ground, 

Through  boggy  trails  and  sloughlike  stretches  passed 


18  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

The  lazy  beasts  and  browsed  on  luscious  grass 

And  took  the  pathways  to  the  fatal  plain. 

And  still  no  noise  nor  haste  on  hunters'  part, 

And  yet  the  herd  kept  on  in  slow  advance, 

And  if  a  bull  at  times  impatient  grew 

And  sought  to  lead  away  his  followers, 

His  course  was  not  opposed,  so  great  the  throng, 

The  tide  was  subtly  stemmed  and  turned  again 

To  mingle  with  the  onward  moving  host. 

Thus  did  the  herd  graze  slowly  up  the  slope 

And  spread  itself  upon  the  rock-bound  plain, 

Hemmed  in  by  bluffs  that  dropped  sheer  fifty  feet 

On  every  side  and  narrowed  to  the  east. 

And  here  they  ranged  at  will  and  lazily  fed 

And  moved  toward  the  fatal  precipice. 

Then  on  the  instant  one  shrill  call  rang  sharp 

Across  the  plain,  and  every  hunter  rose 

And  rushed  with  curdling  shout  upon  the  herd. 

The  heavy  hoofs  beat  hard  upon  the  ground, 

Dust  rose  in  thickening  clouds  above  the  drove, 

Fire  flamed  from  grassy  bundles  caught  on  spears, 

And  hurtling  arrows  from  the  bended  bows 

Drove  panic  on  the  leaders  of  the  herd. 

One  open  space  alone  was  left  by  which 

Escape  seemed  possible,  and  off  this  way 

The  big  bulls  dashed  to  find  too  late  they  stood 

Upon  the  fatal  sharp  cut  brink  of  rock 

Which  fell  away  sheer  and  precipitous. 

They  sought  to  turn,  but  others  coming  on 

With  sting  of  arrows  in  their  flanks  pressed  hard 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  19 

Against  these  first  and  forced  them  out  and  down, 
Until  the  whole  was  one  mad  surge  of  death, 
And  mangled  bodies,  broken  limbed,  lay  heaped 
Upon  the  charnel  slope  beneath  the  bluff. 

As  leaped  the  hindmost  to  their  death 

One  savage  shout  of  triumph  rent  the  air, 

And  through  the  woods  below  there  streamed  a  host 

Of  Indians  ready  with  the  axe  and  spear 

To  smite  and  drive  the  finishing  weapon  home. 

And  with  them  came  the  squaws  and  shouting  boys 

Ready  to  drag  apart  the  heavy  brutes, 

And  bleed  and  flay  and  carve  the  choicest  parts, 

And  make  supply  against  the  winter's  need. 

Soon  all  the  slope  became  a  shamble  vast 

Which  reeked  with  smell  of  blood  and  gasses  freed; 

Haunches  were  cut  to  be  conveyed  on  poles 

And  drawn  by  ponies  to  La  Vantum's  huts, 

Or  carried  to  the  nearby  river's  edge 

And  so  borne  home  by  raft  or  elm  canoe. 

In  pots  and  kettles  slung  above  the  fires 

The  roasts  gave  meaty  odors  to  the  air. 

The  hunters  from  the  bluff  had  found  their  way 

And  lounged  disorderly  in  groups  near  by, 

Or  spread  the  black  meat  on  the  branch  to  broil, 

And  thus  relieve  their  long-continued  fast. 

So  occupied  were  they  and  so  relaxed 

They  lost  their  native  caution  for  the  hour, 

When  suddenly  a  warning  cry  was  raised, 

And  quick  as  spring  of  cat  each  Indian's  hand 


20  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Was  at  his  weapon,  for  upon  the  slope 

Small  space  away  stood  half  a  score  of  men 

Armed  for  encounter,  and  with  coolness  stamped 

To  show  them  proved  in  dangers  of  the  wood. 

Each  on  the  other  looked,  in  readiness 

To  raise  the  war  whoop,  when  La  Salle  advanced 

Extending  in  his  hand  the  calumet. 

*"Onontio  his  greeting  sends,"  he  said, 

"To  you  his  children  of  the  north  and  west, 

And  bids  me  as  his  envoy  say  to  you 

He  has  a  message  ye  may  hear  at  time 

And  place  convenient  for  the  scattered  tribes." 

As  thus  he  spoke  a  chief,  Chassagoac, 

Advanced  with  friendly  mien  and  promptly  said, 

"I  know  you  by  the  grace  of  favors  done, 

And  for  the  kindly  aid  bestowed  on  us 

When  last  you  came  this  way,  we  welcome  you; 

Nor  would  we  now  presume  to  fix  a  date 

And  name  a  place  for  council  lest  our  choice 

Might  work  an  inconvenience  in  your  plans. 

Do  you  but  name  the  day  and  choose  the  spot, 

Our  scattered  tribes  will  rally  at  the  word." 

Thus  importuned  La  Salle  decision  gave, 

"This  morn  we  chanced  upon  your  Council  Cave 

A  league  off  on  the  other  shore.     What  place 

More  fit  if  there  six  days  removed  we  meet. 

This  will  suffice  to  summon  your  allies 

And  bring  our  friends  from  Crevecour  and  the  Lake." 

*The  Indian  name  for  the  Governor  of  Canada. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  21 

The  bronze-hued  redmen  grunted  their  assent, 

And  later  shared  their  kettles'  savory  stew, 

Then  all  straightway  sent  out  their  messengers 

By  woodland  paths  and  river's  trackless  trails. 

The  squaws  meanwhile  prepared  their  winter  stores, 

The  braves  lounged  lazily  in  sunny  nooks, 

And  with  declining  day  La  Salle  retired 

And  sought  his  bivouac  near  the  castled  Rock. 

And  late  that  night  above  the  Indian  town 

Was  heard  again  the  great  owl's  solemn  chant, 

And  from  the  cornfield  in  the  bottom  land 

The  mournful  whippoorwill's  repeated  cry. 

And  at  this  witching  hour  had  sentry  looked 

Among  the  sleepers  round  the  dying  fire, 

Below  the  pine-plumed  Rock  he  would  have  seen 

Ottonoway  was  absent  from  his  place. 

And  had  the  withered  squaw  but  flashed  a  brand 

Within  the  tepee  half  a  league  away 

She  had  discovered  her  young  charge  had  flown, 

And  yet  she  found  her  sleeping  there  at  dawn. 


BOOK  II. 

1.    THE  INDIAN 

The  glory  of  a  vanquished  race  departs 
As  fades  the  sunlight  of  a  summer  day 
Which  lingers  long  on  purple  mountain  peak 
Before  it  dies  in  slowly  deepening  night 
And  dying  leaves  its  beauty  on  the  heights. 

For  those  who  once  on  hill  and  plain  deployed, 
And  trod  the  lonely  paths  of  wilderness, 
And  ranged  in  hunting  parties  through  the  wilds, 
Or  fished  along  the  silver-glinting  streams, 
Or  waged  their  warfare  with  ancestral  foes, 
The  strange  memorials  of  their  passing  show 
In  valley  mounds  and  tracings  on  the  cliffs, 
And  flints  and  flaying-stones  upturned  afield, 
And  quaint  traditions  of  a  mystic  past. 

Through  all  the  complex  maze  of  circumstance 
And  harsh  environment  of  cruel  age 
How  still  in  living  characters  remain 
The  noble  outlines  of  the  primal  race: — 
A  heart  responsive  to  a  kindness  shown 
And  linked  with  unforgetfulness  till  death; 
A  nature  loyal  to  its  tribe  and  clan 
Through  every  hardship  torture  might  devise; 


24  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

A  spirit  voicing  in  religious  rite 

A  simple  faith  in  dim-sensed  Deity. 

A  race  of  poets  they,  who  not  in  verse 

The  subtle  meanings  of  expression  told, 

But  in  the  names  they  gave  to  waterfalls 

And  mountains,  valleys,  rivers,  rocks,  and  woods. 

We  search  the  scanty  records  of  the  past 

And  find  their  natures  similar  to  ours; 

By  evil  passion  swayed,  their  souls'  fine  harp 

Clangs  out  of  tune  with  base  and  vicious  din, 

But  touched  by  kindness  gives  response  with  strain 

Of  richest  tone  and  sweetest  melody, 

Since  kindred  disposition  actuates 

And  meets  in  kind  the  conduct  of  our  race. 


2.    THE  ASSEMBLY 

The  morning  of  the  sixth  day  from  the  hunt 
Had  scarcely  dawned  along  the  Illinois 
When  virile  life  bestirred  upon  its  banks 
From  where  the  *Pesticoui  its  silvery  flood 
Poured  in  to  swell  the  larger  flow  all  down 
To  tArimoni's  willow-fringed  mouth. 
Along  the  misty  shores  encampments  woke 
And  smoke  began  to  curl  from  countless  fires; 
Kaskaskia  roused,  excited  by  the  stir 
Of  life  unusual  in  her  daily  round, 
And  fed  with  haste  the  gruff  impatient  bands 

•The  Fox  River.  tThe  Vermilion. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  25 

Who  hurried  quickly  toward  the  river  front 
Intent  to  join  the  convoy  for  the  Cave. 

The  Sieur  La  Salle  meanwhile  had  tasked  his  men 

In  preparation  for  the  great  event; 

In  person  to  the  village  he  had  gone 

And  begged  the  largest  kettles  for  the  day, 

And  purchased  stores  of  meal,  and  these  his  men 

Had  brought  and  at  his  bidding  set  in  place 

Nearby  the  cave  where  now  a  highway  runs. 

Ottonoway,  his  skillful  hunter  guide, 

Had  ranged  the  forests  and  the  teeming  swamps, 

And  with  his  aids  brought  in  a  score  of  deer, 

Two  elk,  a  bison  and  a  cumbrous  heap 

Of  turkey,  mallard,  bustards  and  wild  fowl 

With  which  to  satiate  the  gathered  tribes. 

Laurens  Chapelle,  a  famous  woodland  chef, 

Who  with  La  Salle   had  sailed  the   Colbert's  length, 

Was  here  the  master  of  the  barbecue 

And  steaming  kettles  with  their  grateful  stew. 

Before  the  sun  was  risen  two  hours  high 
The  river  teemed  with  craft  of  varied  sort 
Which  centered  on  the  shore  near  Council  Cave. 
On  Pestecoui's  clear  current  came  the  chiefs 
From  Maramac  and  villages  beyond; 
Au  Sable's  shadowy  waters  rolling  out 
From  loamy  prairie  land  bore  on  their  crest 
The  stalwart  warriors  from  the  river's  source; 
From  forests  on  the  Kankakee,  canoes 


26  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Of  elm  conveyed  the  old  men  and  the  chiefs 
With  others  from  St.  Joseph's  osiered  banks. 
A  long  convoy  of  boats  from  fair  Des  Plaines 
Brought  down  the  tribesmen  from  her  shores, 
And  from  their  lodges  on  Lake  Michigan. 
So  also  from  the  regions  south  and  west 
They  came  down  Arimoni's  tortuous  course, 
And  up  the  windings  of  the  Illinois; 
From  lodges  far  toward  the  setting  sun, — 
Peoria's  tree-fringed  lake  and  quiet  shore 
And  even  by  the  Mississippi's  strand; 
Braves,  too,  from  camps  along  the  limpid  Rock 
Came  with  their  chiefs  and  lordly  sagamores 
And  merged  with  others  at  Kaskaskia's  door. 

Nor  on  the  river's  watery  lanes  alone 

The  tribes  came  rallying  to  their  Council  Cave. 

On  every  trail  of  prairie  and  of  wood 

The  files  of  warriors  and  their  chiefs  were  seen. 

They  followed  paths  along  the  water's  edge 

Or  took  the  higher  trails  upon  the  bluffs, 

Or  came  the  weary  ways  across  the  plains 

From  distant  village  and  from  lonely  lodge. 

And  so  by  watercourse  and  path  they  came, 

Piankishaws,  Fox,  Weas,  Kickapoos, 

Miamis,  Ottawas,  Peorias, 

Mascoutins  and  the  bands  of  Illinois, 

With  visitors  from  other  ranging  tribes* 

Along  the  river  bank  before  the  Cave 

And  in  the  little  glen  hard  by  they  wait 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  27 

The  coming  of  La  Salle.     Some  broke  their  fast 
With  bowls  of  meal;  some  on  their  blankets  lounged, 
Some  stood  in  groups  apart  beneath  the  trees, 
All  watching  close  the  chef  directions  give 
In  preparation  for  the  noon-tide  feast. 

At  length  the  watchers  by  the  river's  edge 

Sent  up  a  shout  by  which  the  Indians  knew 

The  leader  of  the  French  was  drawing  near; 

And  soon  they  saw  arriving  on  the  path 

Which  led  across  the  fragrant  bottom  land, 

The  troop  attendant  on  the  Sieur  La  Salle. 

The  men  from  Fort  Miami  led  the  van. 

Fur-capped  and  clad  in  well  tanned  hide  of  deer, 

They  bore  their  rifles  with  the  easy  grace 

Of  men  familiar  with  the  woodland  trails. 

Behind  them  marched  the  band  from  Crevecour's  post 

With  Tonti,  Sieur  La  Salle's  most  trusted  friend, 

In  lead,  equipped  with  breastplate,  helm  and  sword, 

His  iron  hand  inactive  at  his  side. 

Next  came  two  priests  in  black  whose  long  robes  fell 

With  ample  folds  from  shoulder  to  the  ground, 

And  each  adorned  by  strings  of  jangling  beads 

To  which  a  shining  crucifix  was  linked. 

These  two  were  followed  by  four  soldiers  garbed 

Like  those  detailed  for  duty  at  Quebec, 

And  bearing  packs  of  gifts  to  be  bestowed. 

Short  space  behind  another  soldier  came 

With  hide  of  deer  white  as  the  mountain  snow, 


28  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

In  which  the  precious  wampam  belts  were  wrapped 
Against  their  showing  in  the  council's  speech. 
Next  in  the  moving  line,  Ottonoway 
Proceeded  with  the  feathered  calumet, 
Himself  bedecked  with  headdress  of  a  chief. 

Then  came  La  Salle  arrayed  in  dress  of  court 

Such  as  the  nobles  wore  in  far  Versailles 

And  which  in  copper  trunk  he'd  brought  with  him 

For  service  on  occasion  such  as  this. 

His  doublet,  hose  and  silver-buckled  shoes 

Set  off  the  contour  of  his  limbs  with  grace, 

His  ruffled  front  and  snowy  wristbands  showed 

Beneath  a  silken  tunic  of  the  hue 

Of  woodbine  crimsoned  by  the  early  frosts; 

A  cloak  of  purple  graced  his  well-knit  form, 

A  low  crowned  hat  with  egret's  snow-white  plume 

Bedecked  his  head  and  gave  him  princely  poise. 

Behind,  Sieur  D'Autray  led  the  remnant's  file 

Of  hardy  woodsmen  and  of  vouageurs, 

And  thus  they  marched  across  the  bottom  land. 

The  line  swung  by  the  place  of  barbecue 

And  passing  round  a  buttress  of  the  cliff, 

Ascended  to  the  earthen  tree-grown  mound 

Which  blocked  the  entrance  of  the  cavern's  mouth. 

Here  bison  robes  were  spread  upon  the  earth 

Where  Sieur  La  Salle,  his  aides,  the  black  robed  priests, 

The  lordly  chiefs  and  sagamores  found  seats, 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  29 

And  round  them,  circling  on  the  sandy  floor, 

There  filed  and  sat  the  rows  of  bronze-hued  braves. 

3.    THE  COUNCIL 

Soon  as  this  strange  assembly  in  the  cave 

In  semi-rings  was  seated  round  the  mound 

On  which  reclined  the  chiefs  and  Sieur  La  Salle, 

Chassagoac,  the  spokesman  of  his  tribe, 

Arose,  and  with  becoming  dignity 

Addressed  the  Frenchmen  with  these  welcoming  words  : 

"To-day  we  thank  you  for  your  visit  here, 

The  sun  has  never  shone  upon  these  hills 

So  bright  nor  with  a  light  so  rich  and  warm; 

And  never  have  our  cornfields  showed  such  yield 

Nor  prairies  such  vast  herds  of  buffalo. 

The  autumn  lengthens  into  golden  days 

And  winter  keeps  his  distance  from  our  town 

While  you  are  here  within  our  valley  range, 

Our  river  never  flowed  more  free  from  rocks 

And  danger  to  our  craft  than  since  you  came. 

We  hail  you,  brothers,  as  deliverers 

From  winter's  cold  and  gnawing  hunger's  pangs 

And  our  arch  enemies,  the  Iroquois." 

By  pre-arrangement  Tonti  rose  and  spoke 

An  answer  to  the  chief,  designed  to  call 

In  turn  expression  from  the  gathered  tribes. 

He  said,  Though  bright  the  sunlight  fell  afield 

And  with  its  grateful  rays  warmed  mother  earth, 


30  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Still  brighter  was  the  light  of  friendship's  glow 

And  warmer  was  the  fire  in  trusting  hearts. 

A  river  never  flowed  so  free  from  rocks 

As  that  vast  stream  of  human  intercourse 

When  prejudice  and  hatred  were  removed 

And  races  wrought  in  trustful  friendliness. 

The  fields  and  forests  gave  their  richest  yield 

When  peace  and  confidence  in  mutual  cause 

Were  linked  together  for  the  weal  of  all, 

And  sure  protection  from  a  common  foe; 

This  was  the  object  of  their  visit  here, 

This,  too,  the  wish  of  king  and  governor, 

And  this  the  message  couched  in  friendly  terms 

The  noble  Sieur  La  Salle  was  charged  to  give. 

But  lest  it  fall  like  seed  too  early  sown 

And  which  becomes  the  prey  of  blighting  frosts, 

He  had  no  welcome  tidings  for  the  tribes, 

Until  he  knew  the  mind  of  these  here  met. 

When  springtime  sun  has  warmed  the  mellow  earth, 

And  oak-buds  swell  to  size  of  squirrel's  ears, 

The  squaws  then  know  'tis  time  to  plant  the  maize, 

So  Sieur  La  Salle  the  signs  of  friendliness 

Would  learn  to-day  and  if  the  time  were  ripe 

Cast  in  his  seed.     If  not,  then  might  he  pass 

To  other  tribesmen  further  west  and  leave 

His  benison  of  peace,  good-will  with  them. 

He  would  but  learn  the  truth  and  their  desires, 

If  friendship  and  protection  from  the  French 

They  should  prefer  to  dread  of  Iroquois, 

Then  should  they  speak  and  tell  their  true  resolves. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  31 

He  sat,  and  through  the  ranks  of  chiefs  and  braves 

Slight  stir  was  made,  then  from  among  the  group 

Where  sat  the  old  men  of  the  tribes,  one  rose 

Who  in  his  days  of  strength  had  been  the  peer 

Of  all  the  spokesmen  in  these  western  wilds, 

And  who  could  yet  with  skill  of  ready  speech 

Direct  the  currents  of  the  native  mind 

And  turn  them  into  channels  as  he  willed. 

He  stood  erect  before  the  sitting  throng, 

And  spoke  with  force  and  fire  of  former  days. 

"Hear,  tribesmen  of  the  plains  and  woods,"  said  he, 

uAnd  see  if  I  declare  not  words  of  truth. 

Long  have  I  ranged  these  regions  from  the  Lakes 

To  that  great  river  by  the  setting  sun; 

Here  have  I  slain  the  bison  and  the  deer, 

Here  driven  foes  from  this  our  hunting  range, 

And  here  with  you  stood  leagued  to  guard  our  homes 

And  never  yielded  ground  nor  knew  a  fear, 

Save  when  those  human  wolves,  the  Iroquois, 

Came  down  with  weapons  drenched  in  kinsmen's  blood. 

And  who  of  us  can  tell  when  once  again 

Their  curdling  yells  will  split  the  midnight  air, 

And  kindling  flames  will  lay  our  village  low, 

And  tomahawk  and  knife  slay  child  and  squaw. 

There  is  no  wall  to  stay  this  tide  of  death 

Unless  it  be  the  ranks  of  trusted  French, 

For  they  have  ever  been  our  helpful  friends 

From  Anticosti  to  the  Piasa, 

And  we  have  been  to  them,  and  will  be  still 

As  is  the  cord  to  hunter's  hickory  bow, 


32  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Or  bank  to  stream  or  bark  to  trunk  of  tree, 
Hear,  brothers,  our  true  pledge  of  fealty." 

In  turn  the  chiefs  and  spokesmen  of  the  tribes 

Arose  and  gave  expression  in  accord. 

A  chieftain  from  the  Winnebagoes  said 

So  long  as  sun  should  shine  and  waters  flow 

And  rosy  color  tint  the  eglantine, 

His  tribe  would  hold  the  French  in  loved  esteem; 

For  had  they  not  in  place  of  flint  and  bow 

Bestowed  the  axe  and  knife,  and  given  the  gun 

By  which  they  shot  their  grouse  and  venison. 

Then  too,  had  not  the  French  shown  friendship  such 

As  others  coming  to  these  shores  had  not, 

For  they  displayed  a  finer  courtesy 

And  mated  with  the  women  of  the  tribes; 

And  as  the  left  hand  to  the  right  was  joined 

In  common  purpose  for  the  body's  good, 

So  were  the  Winnebagoes  with  the  French  . 

In  terms  like  these  their  orators  declared 

Their  loyalty  and  love  toward  the  French. 

A  chieftain  of  the  Illinois  recalled 

How  when  two  years  before,  the  foe  had  come 

And  burned  their  town,  profaned  their  burying  ground, 

And  driven  their  brave  warriors  to  the  west, 

The  French  had  reached  their  strong,  protecting  arm 

Across  the  lakes  from  distant  Canada 

And  given  comfort  in  the  hour  of  woe: — 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  33 

The  Sieur  La  Salle  himself,  the  ministrant. 
"Such  kindness,"  said  the  chief,  "is  not  forgot." 

Another  said,  UA  priest  once  came  to  us 

Who  told  us  of  the  Virgin  and  her  Son, 

The  Cross,  the  Father's  home,  the  burning  Hell; 

Then  up  the  river  passed  in  shining  light 

And  so  we  saw  his  glowing  face  no  more. 

But  with  us  still  remains  the  memory 

Of  gracious  words  and  yet  more  gracious  deeds 

And  longings  for  a  like  kind  ministry. 

Will  not  the  French  grant  such  request  to  us?" 

On  this  the  black-robed  Hennepin  arose, 

And  stretching  forth  his  hands,  he  said, 

"Ye  children  of  the  forests,  listen,  all. 

I  tell  you  of  the  mighty  Manitou 

Who  has  great  plans  and  purposes  designed 

In  which  the  nations  as  the  bucket's  drops 

Are  counted  and  as  dust  upon  the  scales. 

He  sits  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth 

And  we  before  Him  as  grasshoppers  stir; 

He  stretches  out  the  heavens  as  a  sheet 

And  spreads  them  as  a  tent  in  which  to  dwell. 

In  these  great  purposes  devised  for  you, 

Know  well  His  Word  will  have  its  rightful  place, 

With  holy  priests  for  its  interpreters 

And  empty  you  will  not  be  sent  away; 

Somewhere  within  these  purposes  have  we 

A  part  to  play  in  bringing  you  this  Truth. 


34  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

If  ye  be  willing  ye  shall  eat  rich  fruit, 
If  ye  rebel,  the  alien  shall  devour." 

So  spake  the  priest,  and  after  him  a  chief, 

Renowned  for  power  and  wisdom,  slowly  rose; 

He  stood  before  the  throng  in  regal  dress, 

A  crest  of  eagle  feathers  o'er  his  brow 

Which  fell  away  from  strands  of  jet  black  hair, 

Like  flowing  mane  upon  a  stallion's  neck. 

He  held  a  fox  skin  underneath  his  arm 

Firm  bound  by  thongs  with  otter  tails  attached; 

These  he  untied  and  so  unrolled  the  skin, 

Disclosing  six  rich  wampum  belts  within 

Which  he  arranged  in  order  for  his  speech. 

He  spoke  with  quiet  dignity  and  told 

How  once  prevailed  upon  by  Joliet, 

He,  with  four  others  from  his  tribal  bounds, 

Had  crossed  the  portage  to  the  heaving  Lakes 

And  passed  by  many  waters  to  a  stream 

Where  crashed  and  boomed  a  mighty  cataract 

As  though  the  Illinois  in  full  flood  tide 

Fell  thundering  from  bluffs  of  triple  height. 

This  river  with  its  boiling  whirlpools  passed, 

He  entered  next  a  lake  and  from  it  sailed 

A  watery  highway  mongst  a  thousand  isles, 

And  down  a  white-capped,  maddened  course  of  waves, 

And  so  to  Montreal  and  far  Quebec. 

There  he  had  seen  vast  houses  on  the  cliffs, 
Onontio's  home,  and  where  the  Black  Robes  dwelt, 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  35 

There  had  he  seen  a  mighty  fort  of  stone, 

And  from  its  sides  great  iron  guns  belched  flame 

With  voices  louder  than  the  thunder's  roll, 

And  soldiers  kept  the  walls  or  marched  the  streets 

To  rattling  drums,  and  everywhere  was  power. 

Below  the  cliffs  the  monstrous  ships  came  in 

With  bales  and  boxes  full  of  magic  things, 

And  these,  the  white  men  said,  came  from  a  land 

Across  a  sea  yet  wider  and  more  wild 

Than  were  the  Lakes  traversed  by  Joliet, 

And  in  that  land  the  houses  were  so  great 

That  these  upon  the  cliffs  were  but  as  toys. 

The  white  men's  chief,  Onontio,  gave  gifts 

To  carry  to  the  people  of  the  west. 

"Here,"  said  the  chief,  "in  token  of  his  grace, 

I  give  these  belts  in  pledge  of  fealty. 

This  one  in  memory  of  the  kindness  shown, 

To  bind  us  to  your  royal  governor; 

This  second  to  the  power  he  represents, 

This  third  to  you,  his  envoy,  sent  to  us, 

This  fourth  shall  represent  our  tribes'  good-will, 

This  fifth  the  favor  of  the  other  tribes, 

This  last  to  crown  the  loyalty  of  all." 

These  wampum  belts  arranged  to  suit  his  words 
He  spread  in  order  on  the  mound, 
Then  gave  them  one  by  one  to  Sieur  La  Salle 
Who  rose  in  prompt  acknowledgment  and  said, 
"Such  pledges  given  well  demand  of  me 
More  gracious  answer  than  can  now  be  made; 


36  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

The  sun  has  long  since  passed  the  mark  of  noon, 
The  meats  and  kettles  of  Laurens  Chappelle 
Are  waiting  for  our  eager  hands  below, 
And  having  feasted  for  an  hour  we  then 
Will  here  return  and  I  shall  bear  to  you 
The  message  charged  me  by  Onontio." 

With  this  he  waved  his  hand  and  led  the  way, 

The  chiefs  and  sachems  coming  close  behind, 

And  after  them  the  thronging  crowd  of  braves. 

They  passed  around  the  shoulder  of  the  rock, 

And  swarming  down  the  slope  soon  reached  the  place 

Where  steamed  the  kettles  and  the  roasted  meats. 

Here,   sitting  on  the  ground,   their  bowls  were  filled 

And  viands  served  on  fresh  plucked  linden  leaves. 

So  fed  they  all  like  gormands  till  the  fowl 

The  venison,  the  carcasses  of  elk, 

And  roasts  of  buffalo  had  been  devoured, 

Then  at  the  running  brook  they  quenched  their  thirst, 

And  strolled  again  toward  the  Council  Cave. 

4.    THE  ENEMY 

Once  more  in  circled  ranks  upon  the  sand 
Within  the  hidden  cavern's  yawning  mouth, 
The  warriors  sat  around  the  tree-grown  mound 
In  readiness  to  hear  La  Salle's  reply. 
He  rose  before  the  assembled  throng,  and  stood 
In  splendor  of  his  courtly  crimson  dress 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  37 

With  background  curtain  of  the  autumn  wood, 
While  thus  in  terms  of  simple  speech  he  spoke: 

"My  brothers,  I  have  heard  your  friendly  words 

And  in  the  wampum  belts  your  chief  bestowed 

Have  read  the  tokens  of  your  loyalty, 

So  feel  the  time  is  ripe  to  set  the  seal 

Upon  some  compact  of  our  mutual  faith 

To  bind  the  French  with  you  in  closer  bonds. 

Onontio  has  charged  me  to  express 

His  good  will  to  his  children  of  the  West, 

His  deep  concern  for  their  best  interest. 

From  his  great  house  toward  the  eastern  sea 

He  sends  you  tokens  of  regard  and  grace, 

And  bids  me  here  bestow  these  gifts  on  you." 

With  this  he  signed  the  men  who  bore  the  packs 

Along  the  pathway  from  the  river's  marge; 

And  at  the  sign  their  contents  were  disclosed, — 

Knives,   hatchets,   beads,   and  bolts   of  brilliant  cloth, 

With  heavier  wares,  axe  blades,  a  sheaf  of  guns, 

And  other  gear  to  please  the  savage  mind. 

As  from  the  knoll-like  mound  this  goodly  store 

To  chiefs  and  braves  and  sachems  was  disclosed, 

A  wave  of  pleased  approval  swept  the  throng. 

Then  motioned  Sieur  La  Salle  Ottonoway, 

Who  handed  him  the  signs  of  Indian  craft, — 

A  bow  and  arrows,  and  an  axe  of  stone 

Together  with  the  feathered  calumet, 

And  wampum  belts  within  their  snowwhite  case; 

These  each  the  leader  took  and  laid  them  down 


38  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Before  the  chiefs,  and  placed  the  calumet 

Between  the  axe  and  bow,  then  from  his  gifts 

He  took  a  shining  axe  blade  and  a  gun, 

The  metal  on  the  stone  he  placed,  the  gun 

He  laid  across  the  Indian  arrow  sheaf, 

And  from  his  pocket  drew  a  crucifix 

And  set  it  on  the  sacred  calumet. 

Then  lifting  up  the  deerskin  with  its  belts 

He  drew  them  one  by  one  as  thus  he  spoke: 

"Know  by  these  tokens  our  a  mutual  cause. 

The  French  and  Indians  are  together  bound 

By  friendship's  chain  and  claim  of  brotherhood; 

Our  foes  deploy  along  the  eastern  coast 

And  westward  where  the  Five  Tribes  hold  the  Lakes. 

On  you  and  us  they  wage  a  hurtful  war, 

And  this  demands  of  us  confederate  bond 

To  meet  and  stay  their  thrusts  of  cruelty. 

Who  can  with  you  so  ably  fight  the  foe 

As  soldiers  trained  within  the  camps  of  France? 

Their  weapons  shall  with  yours  beat  back  the  hordes 

Which  threaten  from  the  forest  and  the  coast, 

So  on  these  arms  I  place  this  wampum  belt 

As  pledge  of  our  protecting  hand  of  power. 

Or  who  can  so  unlock  the  doors  of  trade 
And  find  the  ready  market  for  your  furs 
And  in  return  bring  back  the  needed  wares 
For  camp  and  chase  as  traders  of  our  race? 
So  on  the  symbols  of  our  common  weal 
I  lay  this  second  wampum  belt  to  pledge 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  39 

An  honest  dealing  with  your  western  tribes. 

And  who  can  bring  the  knowledge  of  the  Truth 

And  teach  religion  to  your  hungry  hearts 

As  these  same  priests  who  sit  with  you  to-day? 

The  heralds  of  the  lifted  cross  are  they, 

To  bring  good  tidings  to  your  villages 

And  tell  the  way  of  life  and  peace  to  all. 

Upon  the  sacred  cross  and  calumet, 

The  holy  symbols  of  our  faith  and  aims, 

I  lay  another  wampum  belt  in  pledge 

Of  our  devoted  interest  in  your  tribes. 

And  on  this  other  pile  of  shining  gifts 

I  lay  a  belt  expressing  that  good-will 

With  which  Onontio  regards  your  race 

And  wishes  for  each  one  prosperity. 

And  binding  thus  the  councils  of  this  day 

I  offer  now  this  still  more  precious  belt, 

A  girdle  from  our  king  beyond  the  sea, 

On  which  is  worked  the  sign  of  brotherhood, 

The  French  with  Indian  standing  hand  in  hand 

And  binding  east  with  west  in  common  cause 

Beneath  the  lilies  of  our  monarch's  flag. 

This  token  means  that  we  make  treaty  here 

To  stand  united  in  confederate  bond, 

And  build  a  fort  upon  the  castled  Rock 

Near  to  the  spot  where  we  have  pitched  our  camp. 

And  from  the  fortress  we  may  there  erect, 

Our  guns  can  safely  keep  the  water  way 

And  guard  your  village  and  your  valley  fields 

Against  the  savage  hordes  of  Iroquois, 


40  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

And  so  insure  the  safety  of  your  tribes. 
The  terms  accepted,  belt  and  gifts  are  yours 
As  pledges  of  the  honor  of  New  France." 

Upon  the  faces  of  his  auditors 

Approval  showed,  when  rose  a  petty  chief, 

Ugly  with  scars,  arrayed  in  panther  skins, 

The  leader  of  a  wild  and  vicious  band. 

He  had  been  found  some  twenty  moons  before 

Far  up  the  windings  of  the  Kankakee, 

Bound  to  a  tree,  by  Iroquois,  he  claimed, 

And  left,  blood-smeared  and  gashed,  a  prey  for  wolves. 

A  youth  had  led  the  Illinois  to  him, 

And  when  they  had  unbound  his  fastenings 

They  gave  him  place  among  their  chiefs,  since  he 

Displayed  such  hatred  toward  their  enemies. 

He  later  from  a  hunting  trip  brought  home 

A  squaw  and  brood  of  children,  and  of  these 

The  maid,  Neonee,  like  arbutus  bud 

Among  decaying  leaves,  bloomed  into  flower. 

Now  stood  this  chief  before  the  circled  throng, 

And  through  his  half  shut  lids  the  listeners  caught 

The  steely  glint  of  cold  malignant  eyes 

As  fierce  Monongonee  harangued  the  crowd. 

"I  am  almost  a  stranger  here"  he  said, 

"And  yet  in  hate  of  Iroquois  I  yield 

To  none,  for  I  have  yet  a  greater  hate. 

The  cause  you  know;  I've  felt  their  arrow  stings, 

The  piercings  of  their  fiery  pointed  sticks. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  41 

But  not  the  Iroquois  alone  are  foes; 

The  English,  settling  by  the  eastern  seas, 

Are  spoiling  hunting  ranges  far  inland; 

There  is  no  room  for  us  where  they  deploy. 

But  not  the  English  only  are  our  foes; 

The   French,   with  gracious  words,   gain  ground  and 

claim 
The  forests  north  and  east,  and  they  make  friends 
With  wily  foes  to  gain  their  subtle  ends, 
And  smoke  the  calumet  with  Iroquois. 
And  now  with  English  masters  and  with  French, 
Where  does  the  native  Indian's  portion  lie? 
Yet  more,  and  hear  me,  for  a  forest  bird 
Brought  me  this  news  but  yesterday.     It  sang 
Deep  in  the  wood  while  on  the  Illinois 
Canoes  brought  from  Miami  and  Crevecour 
These  companies  of  French.     The  wild  bird  sang: 
'My  brother,  there  is  cunning  in  the  camp 
And  there  is  craft  upon  the  council  floor, 
The  calumet  has  lost  its  sacredness, 
They  speak  for  peace  whose  hearts  are  primed  for  war/ 
I  bent  my  head  and  listened  for  an  hour, 
And  then  I  heard  the  wild  bird  sing  again: 
'My  brother,  he  who  speaks  the  gracious  word 
And  giveth  goodly  gifts  to  steal  the  heart 
Is  leagued  with  those,  thine  ancient  enemies, 
Ancl  'neath  the  gift  you'll  find  the  fatal  dart'." 

With  this  Monongonee  turned  on  La  Salle 
And  like  a  rattler  poised  with  head  erect, 


42  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

And  ready  for  the  thrust  of  fatal  stroke 

He  hissed  his  vicious  challenge  to  the  Sieur, 

"You  and  your  French  have  with  the  Iroquois 

Consorted  to  despoil  our  western  tribes; 

You  here  invite  to  build  a  he-wolf's  den 

On  yonder  Rock  and  from  it  take  the  prey. 

This  day's  grand  feast,  these  gifts,  your  honeyed  words, 

Are  merely  bait  with  which  your  trap  is  set, 

But  it  will  now  be  sprung  by  those  of  us 

Who  love  our  range  and  hate  your  wily  ways. 

I  call  on  you  who  would  defend  your  homes 

To  rouse  and  follow  on  the  path  of  war." 

On  this  with  supple  bound  down  from  the  mound 

He  leaped,  and  swinging  wide  his  tomahawk 

He  raised  the  savage  war  cry  while  the  crowd 

Like  forest  smitten  by  a  sudden  blast 

Bowed  with  the  storm,  and  here  and  there  a  brave 

Rose  up  and  joined  their  leader's  howling  din, 

But  on  the  instant  Sieur  La  Salle  had  stood 

And  raising  high  his  hand  commanded,  "Stay 

We  have  no  other  end  in  view  than  peace. 

Refuse  to  join  with  us  and  we  will  pass 

To  other  fields  to  bring  about  our  ends, 

And  leave  you  to  the  spoiling  Iroquois. 

If  with  these  ruthless  foes  at  any  time 

The  French  have  smoked  the  sacred  calumet 

It  was  to  hold  these  cruel  wolves  in  leash 

And  not  to  pledge  a  share  in  taking  prey. 

As  for  our  words  a  trap  which  we  delay 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  43 

To  spring?    Even  three  times  within  this  week 

Occasion  has  been  ours  were  this  our  aim. 

Once  when  we  came  and  found  Kasakskia's  braves 

Gone  on  the  hunt  we  might  have  burned  the  town, 

And  safely  passed  upon  our  errand's  quest; 

The  next  day  when  unguarded  round  your  spoils 

You  lounged,  we  might  have  slain  and  made  escape; 

And  now  to-day  while  you  are  resting  safely  here 

We  might  have  blocked  your  exit  with  our  guns 

And  led  you  singly  or  in  groups  to  death. 

Foul,  vicious  thought!  the  spawn  of  evil  mind. 

For  French  and  western  tribes  have  kindred  aim. 

Not  soon  shall  we  forget  how  bled  our  heart 

When  we  beheld  scarce  thirty  moons  ago 

Kaskaskia's  homes  despoiled  by  Iroquois, 

The  scaffolds  of  her  noble  dead  thrown  down, 

Her  warriors  fled,  her  children  tomahawked, 

Her  ravished  squaws  left  dying  in  their  blood. 

Still  beats  our  heart  as  with  a  brother's  throb 

And  we  shall  pray  your  foes  come  not  again. 

And  should  you  yet  refuse  to  grant  our  boon 

We  shall  pass  on  to  friends  on  other  trails 

And  simply  say,  'Our  brothers  have  forgot'." 

Thus  did  the  Sieur  La  Salle  the  storm  allay 

And  break  the  scarred  chief's  threat  of  vicious  craft, 

Who  seeing  his  mad  counsels  set  at  nought 

Passed  with  his  henchmen  from  the  cavern's  mouth 

Along  the  shadowy  trail  toward  the  town. 

Long  sat  the  chiefs  and  sachems  on  the  mound 


44  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

And  smoked  with  Sieur  La  Salle  the  calumet, 
And  with  him  signed  the  treaty's  terms  by  which 
They  gave  him  timbered  acres  on  the  bluffs 
And  pledged  their  help  to  build  at  once  a  fort. 
Then  in  the  glowing  autumn  afternoon 
The  concourse  broke  and  passed  by  woodland  trail 
And  water  route  to  camps  along  the  stream, 
And  to  Kaskaskia  where  their  revels  held 
Till  midnight  turned  the  tide  of  time  toward  day. 
Meantime  Monongonee  sulked  in  his  lodge, 
And  Sieur  La  Salle  in  camp  beside  the  Rock, 
With  leaders  from  Miami  and  Crevecour, 
Laid  further  plans  for  building  soon  the  fort, 
And  from  the  dizzy  bluffs  toward  the  west 
A  great  owl  boomed  his  heavy  sounding  notes 
And  in  the  cornfield  moaned  the  whippoorwill. 


BOOK  III. 

1.    THE  FRONTIERSMEN 

Heroic  figures  cast  in  molds  of  bronze 

Or  deftly  carven  from  the  granite  rock 

Bear  witness  to  the  conquering  warrior's  fame, 

The  scholar's  gifts,  the  skill  of  diplomat, 

The  kindly  favor  of  philanthropist, 

The  noble  act  of  valor  or  of  love. 

For  them  who  pay  the  sacrifice  supreme 

In  war,  the  arch  and  monument  are  built, 

While  marble  bust  and  tablet's  honored  rolls 

Preserve  full  oft  the  names  of  lesser  men 

Whom  chance  or  circumstance  have  raised  to  power. 

But  what  of  them  who  in  the  common  lot 

Made  possible  the  stepping  stones  of  fate 

By  which  a  nation's  fondlings  climb  to  fame 

And  after  peoples  live  in  opulence? 

Obscure,  unfavored,  they  their  toils  pursued, 

They  felled  the  forests  with  the  ringing  axe, 

They  reared  their  cabins  in  the  lonely  woods, 

They  plowed  their  clearings  with  the  tedious   share, 

They  reaped  their  harvests  with  the  sickle's  thrust, 

They  waged  their  season's  battle  with  the  snows 

And  with  the  wintry  wind's  unequal  strife, 

They  fought  the  redmen  in  the  ambushed  wood, 

And  drove  the  wild  beasts  from  the  barn  and  fold. 


46  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

With  axe  and  gun  in  hand  for  ready  use 

They  kept  the  fort  and  held  their  humble  homes. 

For  them  the  gates  of  classic  lore  were  shut 

Save  as  some  learned  priest  or  leader  came 

And  sat  beside  their  fire  and  passed  to  them 

The  wisdom  gleaned  in  schools  across  the  sea. 

Their  teachers  were  the  storms  which  swept  the  hills, 

The  forests  giving  of  their  secret  lore, 

The  birds  and  beasts  that  ranged  the  virgin  wilds, 

The  rivers  and  the  streams  which  drained  their  lands, 

The  lonely  mountains  with  their  snowy  wastes, 

The  moon  and  stars,  mute  guardians  of  the  night, 

And  Seasons  shifting  with  the  changing  year. 

The  sum  of  all  instruction  was  to  learn 

How  sustenance  and  safety  might  be  found, 

How  frame  their  shelters  'gainst  the  piercing  winds, 

And  find  protection  from  the  savages, 

How  gain  a  living  from  the  soil  and  woods 

And  harmonize  their  lives  with  nature's  laws. 

This  schooling  in  the  vast  and  open  wilds 

Made  men  resourceful,  brave,  and  confident, 

Like  heroes  of  the  classic  age  who  fought 

With  dragons  and  with  hydra-headed  beasts. 

It  gave  them  prowess  to  withstand  attack, 

And,  daring  fate,  they  feared  no  foe,  but  stood, 

Defiant  to  each  danger  threatening  them, 

And  forced  the  conflict  to  the  final  blow. 

Such  heritage  they  left  that  even  yet 

The  lands  they  tilled,   the  restless  lakes  they  sailed, 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  47 

The  rugged  mountains  that  they  climbed,  all  claim 
The  attributes  of  greatness  each  possessed, 
And  these  they  linked  with  forest,  rock,  and  stream, 
And  wrote  their  names  on  rivers,  hills,  and  towns. 

2.    THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  FORT 

November's  leaden  dome  above  the  Rock 

Was  arched  in  ashen  gray  magnificence 

When  first  the  sound  of  woodman's  axe  was  heard 

Among  the  forests  of  the  Illinois, 

Preparing  for  the  building  of  the  fort. 

The  Rock  gave  up  in  part  its  plume-like  pine, 

Its  maple  and  its  oak  and  other  growth, 

And  near  the  northern  edge  a  pit  was  dug 

To  serve  as  cellar;  while  with  measuring  stick 

La  Salle,  colossus-like,  bestrode  the  logs. 

A  booth  like  structure  built  in  sheltered  nook 
Upon  the  lofty  promontory's  crest, 
Held  in  it  safely  implements  and  stores 
Brought  down  from  Fort  Miami  on  the  Lake. 
Here,  too,  Chapelle  plied  happily  his  art 
Among  the  pans  and  kettles,  kept  supplied 
By  heaps  of  game  Ottonoway  brought  in 
From  river,  forest,  thicket,  swamp  and  plain. 
The  crowd  of  Indian  loungers  grew  around 
This  favored  spot  until  La  Salle  decreed 
That  only  they  who  worked  should  share  the  food. 
Then  part  retired  and  at  his  beck  and  call 


48  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

The  rest  employed  themselves  in  varied  tasks; 

Some  found  the  wiry  sedge  grass  in  the  swamps 

And  wove  it  with  the  inner  strands  of  bark 

To  form  the  long  and  pliant  ropes  they  used 

To  draw  the  timbers  up  the  steep  Rock's  side. 

Some  also  found  and  cut  the  wild  grape  vines 

In  lengths  convenient  for  the  needful  use, 

And  others  piled  great  stacks  of  fuel  high 

Upon  the  summit  for  the  winter  fires, 

While  some  brought  in  wild  rice,  cornmeal,  and  nuts 

And  bartered  such  for  hatchets,  knives  or  guns. 

These  workers  were  supplied  their  shares  of  food, 

And  round  the  cheerful  fire  high  o'er  the  stream 

The  French  begat  good-will  and  brotherhood. 

Meantime  the  axemen  round  the  high  Rock's  base 
Cut  down  the  destined  trees,  lopped  off  the  limbs, 
And  squared  the  trunks  to  suit  the  plans  devised. 
Strong  slabs  were  split  from  straight  grained  logs  of 

oak, 
And  with  the  drawing-knife  and  plane  were  smoothed 
To  serve  as  doors  and  window  frames  and  sills. 
The  chorus  of  the  broad-axe,  saw  and  adze 
Was  merged  with  heavy  throbbings  of  the  maul, 
And  rocky  ledges  gave  their  echoes  back. 
The  jays,  disturbed,  screamed  protests  shrill  and  sharp, 
The  brown  owls  looked  with  wonder  on  the  scene, 
And  from  their  home  within  a  hollow  oak 
A  pair  of  ringed  raccoons  watched  warily, 
While  reynard  with  his  bright  and  cunning  eyes 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  49 

Peered  out  surprised  from  hazel's  tangled  maze 
High  up  the  ledge  across  the  nearby  stream, 
Then  like  a  shadow  slipped  away  in  stealth. 

While  thus  the  forests  bowed  before  the  axe 

The  cliffs  gave  up  their  secrets  to  the  men, 

Who  found  upon  a  neighboring  bluff,  the  pine 

In  which  a  pair  of  eagles  had  their  nest 

Where  every  year  they  reared  their  callow  young; 

The  lofty  height  was  christened  Eagle  Rock. 

Still  further  east  where  'gainst  a  dizzy  wall 

A  canyon  ended  sharp  amongst  the  rocks, 

A  hunter  trailed  a  wild  cat  to  her  den, 

And  had  he  not  with  skillful  shot  laid  low 

The  fierce-eyed  mother,  crouching  for  her  spring, 

His  hunt  might  have  had  issue  otherwise, 

But  as  it  was,  he  brought  her  furry  pelt 

And  tiny  spitting  kittens  to  the  fort, 

And  left  the  wild  cat's  name  to  mark  the  gorge. 

Meantime  the  cellar-pit  was  dug  complete, 

Its  edges  leveled  to  receive  the  logs 

First  to  be  laid  in  place,  and  on  a  day 

Appointed  by  La  Salle,  an  eager  crowd 

Of  French  and  Indians  drew  with  ropes  and  skids 

Two  poplar  beams  from  where  the  parent  trees 

Were  felled  and  squared  upon  the  valley  floor; 

Each  measured  four  score  feet  and  reached  entire 

The  fort's  long  length,  a  little  space  apart, 

And  passed,   projecting  from  the  high   Rock's   edge, 


50  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Full  seven  yards,  and  these  they  later  braced 
By  lesser  beams  against  the  Rock's  steep  side, 
And  laid  a  floor  and  built  a  balustrade, 
And  drumlike  windlass,  whence  in  case  of  siege 
They  might  draw  water  from  the  depths  below. 
Then  log  by  log  the  walls  were  hastily  reared, 
The  bracing  beams  pinned  firmly  in  their  place, 
The  timbers  sawed  for  entrance  ways  and  light, 
The  chinking  closely  packed  between  the  logs 
And  port-holes  bored  within  the  upper  room. 
The  sheeting  on  the  rafters  overhead 
Received  the  rows  of  white  oak  shingles  wide; 
Two  chimneys,  one  at  either  end,  were  built 
And  set  with  cranes  firm  fastened  in  their  walls; 
The  cellar  pit  was  covered  with  huge  slabs 
And  on  the  other  floor  space  sawed  blocks  set 
With  evened  tops  like  stretch  of  paving  brick. 
The  northern  corners  west  and  east  were  flanked 
By  towers  where  were  placed  two  cannon  brought 
From  Fort  Miami  with  the  other  stores 
And  set  to  guard  the  river  and  the  fields. 

Upon  a  chill  December  day  while  stood 

An  Indian  throng  upon  the  farther  shore, 

Invited  from  La  Vantum  for  the  sight, 

The  cannon  boomed,  their  white  smoke  rolling  high, 

As  Sieur  La  Salle  ran  up  the  flag  of  France, 

And  heavy  voices  sang  Te  Deum's  praise. 

Soon  all  his  stores  were  housed  within  the  fort 

And  all  prepared  against  the  searching  cold. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  51 

And  in  the  last  fair  days  that  lingered  still 

About  the  Rock  before  the  winter  came, 

The  Sieur  La  Salle  a  palisade  ran  round 

The  edges  where  a  foe  might  scale  the  height, 

And  built  a  well-defended  entrance  way 

Which  faced  the  south,  with  timbered  stairs  below. 

So  hasted  by  the  days  till  Christmas  Eve 

Her  curtain  gathered  round  the  fort-crowned  Rock, 

And  lit  the  tallow  candles  on  the  tree 

Which  brushed  the  ceiling  of  the  fort's  wide  room. 

Here  in  the  light  and  warmth  which  cheered  the  spot 

The  lonely  blazers  of  the  forest  trails 

Renewed  the  age-old  spirit  of  good  wSll. 

Jacques   D'Autray   from  his  private  chest  fished  out 

An  ancient  flute  and  with  the  violin 

Chapelle  so  often  tuned  as  evening  fell 

The  two  beguiled  the  swiftly  speeding  hours, 

And  played  the  strains  they'd  learned  beyond  the  seas 

When  love  and  budding  manhood  marked  their  youth. 

Glad  gala  days  in  France  arose  in  mind 

As  they  from  pipe  and  string  drew  melody. 

And  with  the  cheer  that  filled  the  joyous  hours 

Old  quarrels  were  forgot,  estrangements  healed, 

And  ruffled  feelings  smoothed  to  peace  again. 

Here  far  from  home  and  kindred  in  the  woods 

Their  lonely  spirits  trod  the  paths  of  youth 

And  they  were  boys  once  more  as  in  the  past, 

Delighting  in  the  simple  gifts  exchanged 

Around  the  shining  tree: — strange  gifts  they  were, 


52  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

A  much  prized  nugget  wrapped  in  linden  leaf, 

A  hunting  knife  encased  in  bison  hide, 

A  polished  horn  to  keep  the  precious  store 

Of  powder  dry,  a  hatchet,  or  a  trap. 

Chapelle,  true  to  his  craft,  had  furnished  sweets 

Encroaching  on  his  maple  sugar  stock, 

And  with  dried  myrrh  or  pinch  of  wintergreen 

Or  peppermint  had  flavored  well  his  stores. 

La  Salle  had  bidden  in  to  share  this  scene 
A  group  of  chiefs,  and  gave  to  each  of  them 
Some  token  6t  the  season's  happy  cheer, — 
A  feathered  pipe,  a  shining  string  of  beads, 
A  handy  axe,  or  present  of  such  sort. 
Within  the  genial  warmth  of  hearthstone  flames, 
With  copious  stores  of  food  and  drink  bestowed, 
Their  wintry  natures  thawed  to  give  response 
And  iced  reserve  broke  into  cordial  glow. 
So  fled  the  evening  hours  within  the  fort 
Till  midnight  passing  by  the  dizzy  Rock 
Saw  still  the  fires  alight  and  heard  the  songs 
Sung  gaily  in  the  language  of  the  French. 
And  when  the  sharers  of  the  Christmas  cheer 
Looked  out  across  the  valley  fields  next  morn, 
The  earth  was  ermined  by  a  fall  of  snow 
And  winter  stalked  among  Kaskaskia's  huts 
And  spread  her  royal  robes  upon  the  hills. 

3.     D'AUTRAY'S  TALE 
A  storm  was  raging  on  La  Vantum's  hills, 
White-breathed  and  furious  it  drove  the  sleet 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  53 

Among  the  trees  and  shot  its  bolts  of  ice 
Against  the  walls  of  cliff,  and  spread  its  sheets 
Of  shifting  snow  upon  the  valley  floor, 
Then  rudely  caught  them  up  in  savage  mood 
And  fiercely  flung  them  to  the  clearing's  edge. 
The  winds  roared  madly  round  the  low-eaved  fort, 
And  leaped  like  howling  giants  from  the  Rock, 
And  bellowed  wildly  as  they  raced  away 
Amongst  the  lonely,  hollow-moaning  glens. 

Within  the  roomy  fort  a  blazing  fire, 
Responding  hotly  to  each  gusty  swell 
That  wrenched  at  beam  and  rafter  till  they  creaked, 
Roared  lusty  challenge  to  the  winds  outside. 
Around  the  mud-chinked  walls  were  tiers  of  bunks 
On  which  were  spread  the  pelts  of  buffalo 
And  bear.    Above  the  fireplace  and  the  doors 
The  guns  and  gear  of  chase  and  war  were  hung, 
And  fitful  firelight  showed  on  peg  and  nail 
Rough  garments,  needful  tools  and  implements, 
And  from  the  ceiling  haunches  of  the  deer. 
Across  the  central  space  a  table  stretched 
With  slab  seats  ranged  about  its  grateful  edge, 
And  here  before  the  roaring  fire  there  lounged 
On  stools  and  rustic  chairs  or  sprawled  at  length 
On  deerskins  spread  upon  the  puncheon  floor 
The  hardy  trailers  of  the  northern  paths. 
They  told  their  oft  repeated  stories  of  the  past, 
Wild  tales  of  fierce  encounter  in  the  wood 
With  savage  bear  bereft  of  cubs;  of  lynx, 


54  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

And  wild  cat  and  the  wounded  deer  or  elk; 

Of  wolves  withstood  till  dawn  bestreaked  the  sky 

And  they  retired  like  silent  shadows  gray. 

Among  these  men  who  lounged  before  the  fire, 

The  Sieur  La  Salle  sat  at  the  table's  end,, 

And  over  notes  and  outspread  map  he  pored 

In  concentration  lost  to  all  about 

Yet  conscious  of  the  tide  of  eddying  speech. 

Near  by  sat  D'Autray,  silent  as  his  wont, 

Who  only  talked  when  mood  within  was  stirred. 

His  was  a  poet's  nature,  leagued  with  stars, 

And  sunsets,  storms,  and  mountain  solitudes, 

And  these  sometimes  unloosed  his  silent  tongue 

When  his  companions  of  the  forest  felt 

He  had  come  down  from  heights  unknown  to  them, 

And  while  but  dimly  they  divined  his  moods 

They  gave  him  quiet  reverence  as  their  peer. 

Each  in  that  circle  knew  that  years  before 

A  tragedy  had  pierced  him  with  its  shaft, 

But  from  his  lips  none  save  La  Salle  had  heard 

The  moving  story  of  that  tragic  past. 

He  now  sat  by  and  listened  to  his  friends 

Relate  their  stories  of  the  northern  woods, 

And  as  he  listened  twirled  a  tomahawk 

With  handle  marked  by  many  a  rude  scratched  notch. 

At  length  the  tongues  became  less  talkative 

Like  fires  upon  the  hearth  which  cease  to  burn 

With  brighter  glow  from  having  fed  upon 

The  fuel  given  to  their  ravening  flames. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  55 

Meanwhile  the  angry  surgings  of  the  storm 

Beat  yet  more  madly  round  the  low-eaved  fort, 

And  lashed  the  forest  till  it  groaned  in  pain, 

And  flung  its  broken  limbs  as  hostages 

To  stay  the  onward  sweeping  tide  of  wrath. 

The  roof  and  rafters  creaked,  and  hollow  roared 

The  fire  within  the  massive  chimney's  throat. 

Then  D'Autray  stirred,  as  though  the  boisterous  night 

Claimed  speech  from  him,  and  said,  "  'Twas  such  a 

storm 
Which  fifteen  years  ago  broke  on  the  hills 
Along  the  Richelieu,  and  marked  its  course 
With  prostrate  pines  and  rudely  shattered  trunks. 
It  came  upon  the  wake  of  days  as  fair 
As  any  ever  dawning  in  late  fall, 
Days  like  the  times  I'd  known  two  years  before 
At  Montreal's  fur  sale  when  Indians  came 
In  loaded  boats  to  meet  the  merchants  there 
And  carry  back  the  varied  wares  of  trade. 
There  first  I  met  the  daughter  of  a  chief, 
A  girl  as  graceful  as  the  bounding  fawn 
Which  plays  around  the  grazing  herd  at  eve. 
I  urged  my  suit  and  with  her  people  went 
Far  up  along  the  pine  fringed  Ottawa, 
And  spent  the  autumn  in  the  Huron  town 
Where  Chief  Lacolac  ruled  his  chastened  braves. 
I  helped  them  fortify  their  villages, 
And  hunted  through  the  forests  by  their  side. 

"When  snows  were  gone,  I  launched  a  birch  canoe 


56  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

And  in  it  brought  away  my  Indian  wife. 

We  came  to  Montreal  and  later  passed 

To  home-like  spot  along  the  piny  shore 

And  built  our  cabin  by  the  Richelieu. 

More  golden  than  the  golden  summer  days 

Those  happy  months  beside  the  river's  marge. 

My  bride  was  not  as  other  women  were 

Among  her  tribe.     Gentle  she  was  and  bright, 

With  laughter  in  her  voice,  like  bluebird's  note, 

And  eyes  that  shone  like  stars  in  shadowy  streams. 

And  when  a  little  life  that  winter  came 

To  cheer  our  lonely  forest  habitat, 

The  great  deep  of  my  spirit  stirred  and  voiced 

Its  answer  to  the  mystery  of  life, 

And  I  was  mute  with  prayer  of  gratitude 

And  said,  'My  cup  is  full  to  overflow.' 

Through  all  that  winter  and  the  passing  spring 

And  summer  I  was  like  to  them  that  dream; 

I  read  new  meanings  with  the  eyes  of  love, 

New  stores  of  joy  in  all  about  my  home; 

My  little  child  with  baby  fingers  drew 

Fresh  fancies  from  the  stars  and  heaven's  deep, 

And  in  the  whispers  of  the  wood  I  heard 

The  luring  calls  from  far  enchanted  shores. 

"So  passed  the  days,  and  with  the  autumn  time 

I  loaded  full  my  birch  canoe  with  furs, 

And  left  for  Montreal,  a  three  days'  trip. 

As  I  returned  a  storm  broke  on  the  hills, 

And  golden  light  was  quenched,  and  night  came  down 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  57 

With  shadows  and  the  howling  of  the  wind. 

The  last  lap  up  the  white-capped  Richelieu 

Was  fought  against  the  fury  of  the  gale, 

And  in  the  blinding  swirls  of  chilling  sleet 

I  brought  my  vessel  to  its  mooring-place 

And  staggered  up  the  shore  toward  my  home. 

No  grateful  firelight  glowed  upon  the  hearth, 

Nor  shout  of  childish  welcome  greeted  me; 

The  door  stood  wide  and  silence  everywhere, 

Save  as  the  storm  gave  answer  to  my  calls. 

In  fear  I  struck  the  flint  that  gave  me  light, 

And  lying  there  in  blood  upon  the  floor 

My  woodland  wife  with  her  dark  eyes  aglaze 

Looked  through  the  gloom  the  stony  glare  of  death, 

A  scalp  wound  gaping  through  her  raven  locks. 

With  deep  despairing  moan  of  agony 

I  caught  her  cold  dead  form  and  held  it  fast, 

It  may  have  been  for  hours  for  aught  I  know, 

In  my  wild  grief,  while  with  increasing  wrath 

The  storm  outside  grew  in  intensity, 

The  fit  accompaniment  of  storm  within. 

And  as  it  raged  and  lashed  and  broke  the  trees 

I  madly  raved  and  cursed  the  Iroquois 

Whose  fiendish  work  I  knew  it  must  have  been 

That  had  despoiled  my  forest  paradise. 

uAt  length  bespent  I  laid  the  body  down, 
And  kindled  on  the  hearth  again  the  fire. 
My  child  was  gone,  the  only  trace  save  death 
The  foe  had  left  of  presence  in  my  home 


58  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 


Was  this  same  tomahawk  which  doubtless  slipped 

From  fastening  in  the  brutal  Indian's  belt 

When  he  had  stooped  to  catch  my  partridge  chick. 

I  gripped  it  hard  and  wildly  raved  again; 

So  through  the  night  until  the  storm  was  spent 

My  savage  nature  often  burst  restraint; 

But  not  in  howlings  of  the  tempest  blast 

Nor  in  the  wild  bemoanings  of  my  breast 

Was  any  peace  or  quiet  to  be  found. 

'Twas  only  when  the  gale  was  fully  spent 

And  break  of  day  showed  nature's  miracle, 

The  calm  that  follows  in  the  wake  of  storm, 

I  heard  the  still  small  voice  of  God  proclaim, 

'The  vengeance  for  the  deed  belongs  to  me.' 

Then  through  my  mind  old  laws  from  Holy  Writ 

Came  trooping  with  retributory  threat 

And  claimed  me  as  avenger  of  my  wrongs: 

'An  eye  for  eye  avenge,  a  tooth  for  tooth, 

Who  sheds  man's  blood,   man's  hand  shall  shed  his 

blood, 
Who  lifts  the  sword  shall  by  the  sword  be  slain, 
As  Israel  did,  thou  also  shalt  avenge.' 
But  ever  to  such  inner  reasoning 
The  voice  of  Deity  through  conscience  spoke, 
'Be  still,  be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God, 
For  vengeance  unto  me  alone  belongs.' 
At  length  I  paused  and  listening  I  learned, 
And  as  a  weaned  child  that's  comforted 
I've  stilled  my  heart  and  waited  through  the  years, 
For  though  I  dare  not  lift  avenging  hand 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  59 

It  yet  has  seemed  to  me  my  eyes  shall  see 
The  vindication  of  this  hellish  wrong. 
So  sure  it  hath  appeared  I've  written  here, 
*'Sui  a  tue'  on  le  tuera  par  caV 
With  this  he  held  his  slender  tomahawk 
So  that  the  firelight  fell  upon  the  blade, 
And  Sieur  La  Salle  read  to  the  group  again 
The  legend  graven  in  their  native  tongue. 

A  hush  had  fallen  on  the  company 

As  though  above  the  deed  a  mightier  power 

That  silent  worked  through  time  were  sensed  by  them. 

But  now  that  D'Autray's  voice  no  longer  spoke, 

The  spell  was  broken  and  the  men  gave  vent 

To  words  of  hate,  the  index  of  their  time, 

As  they  reveiwed  his  sad  experience. 

One  said  he  should  have  raised  a  company 

Among  the  men  along  the  Richelieu 

And  followed  hard  upon  his  foeman's  trail 

And  giv'n  no  respite  till  he'd  found  and  slain 

The  last  man  of  the  ranging  murderous  band. 

Another  counseled  that  he  should  have  watched 

The  waterways  and  spent  his  days  alert 

In  taking  toll  on  roving  Iroquois, 

While  others  urged  surprise  or  night  attack, 

The  hand  of  flame,  the  poisoning  of  the  springs, 

Or  some  such  fatal  thrust  of  vengeful  hate. 

To  these  the  high-souled  D'Autray  made  reply: 

*He  who  has  slain  by  this  shall   he  be  slain — Liberal   translation. 


60  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

"Let  those  who  may  with  slaughter  stain  their  hands, 

I  dare  not  dye  my  own  with  vengeful  blood. 

With  friends  I  will  defend  the  camp  and  home 

Against  the  ruthless  men  of  blood  who  rise, 

But  will  not  urge  a  personal  war  nor  strife, 

For  no  man  dares  to  let  the  hordes  of  hate 

Run  rampant  through  his  breast  unless  he  place 

His  soul  at  hazard  with  all  chance  to  lose, 

And  he  who  takes  the  sword  by  it  shall  die. 

Stand  still  and  see  the  wheels  of  circumstance 

Turn  round,  for  on  them  it  is  plainly  writ, 

'To  God  belongeth  vengeance  for  all  deeds.' 

Beyond  the  ken  of  puny  finite  men 

Are  potent  laws  that  rule  the  universe, 

Its  morals  and  its  vast  machinery, 

And  no  man  safely  runs  a  counter  course, 

For  hate  will  surely  wreck  the  vengeful  soul." 

"Well,"  said  a  friend  who'd  urged  reprisal's  means, 

"Give  me  your  tomahawk,  we'll  hang  it  here 

And  wait  the  proof  you  feel  is  sure  to  come, — 

The  chance  for  it  is  but  the  hope  to  find 

A  needle  lost  within  a  stack  of  hay." 

He  reached  his  hand  and  took  the  shining  blade 

And  hung  it  just  above  the  chimney-shelf, 

Then  as  the  evening  deepened,  one  by  one 

The  men  retired  and  soon  were  lost  in  sleep, 

And  only  Sieur  La  Salle  with  map  and  notes 

Kept  vigil  in  the  lonely  wind-wracked  fort. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  61 


4.     MONONGONEE 


A  sentry  on  the  lofty  wind-swept  Rock 
Looked  down  the  valley  toward  Kaskaskia's  huts 
And  saw  an  Indian  coming  up  the  trail. 
He  moved  with  easy  grace  along  the  path 
Among  the  shadows  blue  below  the  cliffs; 
A  furry  blanket  wrapped  the  supple  form 
Which  showed  the  strength  of  sinewy  catamount, 
And  something  in  the  savage's  advance 
Struck  off  the  thought  within  the  sentry's  mind, 
"The  way  yon  Indian  moves  along  the  path 
Shows  he's  more  panther  than  he  is  a  man." 
The  Redman  on  his  part,  as  though  he  knew 
The  quarry  which  he  meant  to  stalk,  approached 
The  Rock  and  took  the  pathway  to  the  fort 
And  climbed  the  steep  ascent  and  shortly  stood 
Before  the  entrance  to  the  guarded  ground. 
Among  the  natives  who  had  thronged  the  place 
In  recent  weeks  and  helped  to  build  the  fort, 
This  one  had  not  been  present.     Now  he  peered 
Within  the  heavy  door  and  stealthily 
Looked  on  the  scene, — the  fort  and  palisade, 
As  though  he  saw  not,  yet  saw  everything. 

The  guard  with  one  alert  apprizing  glance 
Had  recognized  him  as  the  chief  who  late 
Had  sought  to  break  the  Council  at  the  Cave. 
The  Indian  sensing  his  disfavor  said: 
"I  am  Monongonee  and  wish  to  see 


62  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

The  Sieur  La  Salle."     Then  stood  erect  in  pride 

And  waited  for  an  answer  to  his  words. 

The  sentry  sought  La  Salle  and  brought  reply 

The  Sieur  would  see  his  guest  within  the  fort, 

And  hither  passed  the  chief  with  catlike  tread. 

La  Salle  arose  to  greet  his  visitor 

Who  lately  parted  from  him  as  a  foe, 

And  bowed,  reserved,  a  welcome  to  his  guest, 

The  other,  watching  as  with  adder's  eyes, 

Gave  neither  bow  nor  gesture  while  he  spoke 

In  measured  terms  of  suave  apology: 

"I  bring  regrets  for  insult  lately  given, 

I  thought  you  friendly  to  the  Iroquois, 

But  fort  and  palisade  disprove  the  thought. 

Accept  my  words  and  with  me  share  good  will." 

Before  the  wily  statement  of  his  guest 
The  features  of  La  Salle  at  once  relaxed; 
With  friendly  grace  he  reached  forgiving  hand 
And  grasped  the  subtle  Indian's  but  to  find 
In  cold  response  and  black  averted  look 
The  empty  meaning  to  his  studied  words. 
"It  is  his  pride,"  he  thought,  "we'll  let  it  go." 
And  straightway  motioned  him  to  occupy 
The  fireside  circle's  highly  honored  seat, — 
A  great  chair  covered  with  a  bison's  hide. 
The  Indian  deigned  no  answer  but  to  lift 
The  skin  and  spread  it  on  the  floor,  then  said, 
"Earth  is  my  mother  and  with  her  I  rest." 
So  saying,  he  sat  down  and  looked  around 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  63 

Through  narrowed  lids  on  what  was  ranged  about, — 

The  firewood,  tables,  bunks,  and  piles  of  furs, 

The  tools  and  implements  and  drying  venison, 

The  gear  and  garments  hanging  on  their  pegs, 

And  all  the  varied  stores  of  trapper's  craft. 

His  furtive  gaze  drank  in  most  greedily 

The  weapons  of  defense, — the  cannon  brought 

From  Fort  Miami  ere  the  fall  of  snow, 

And  several  rifles  of  prodigious  length 

To  swell  the  Rock's  foreboding  armory. 

He  saw  the  tomahawk  above  the  hearth 

Where  it  had  hung  since  D'Autray  told  his  tale 

The  night  the  storm  had  raged  around  the  Rock, 

And  as  the  Indian  gazed  upon  the  blade 

La  Salle  beheld  his  countenance  light  up, 

And  oft  the  Redman  cast  a  covert  glance 

Toward  the  chimney  wall,  and  when  he  left 

He  asked  the  weapon  might  be  given  him, 

But  vouched  no  reason  for  his  frank  request. 

And  Sieur  La  Salle  had  made  reply  to  him: 
The  owner  of  the  tomahawk  was  gone 
To  Crevecour  with  important  mission  charged, 
So  he  could  not  make  gift  as  asked  the  chief, 
But  other  present  might  bestow  in  place. 
And  this  the  proud  Monongonee  received 
And  when  he  left  the  fort  his  cold  reserve 
Seemed  broken,  but  beneath  this  outer  guise 
His  Indian  nature  schemed  with  subtlety 
And  bided  time  in  which  to  work  his  will. 


64  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

And  when  Sieur  D'Autray  had  returned  again 

La  Salle  informed  him  of  the  incident 

And  bade  him  keep  his  weapon  under  lock 

If  he  regarded  it  of  special  worth, 

But  D'Autray  answered,  "Kismet:  let  it  stay; 

We'll  watch  the  wheels  of  circumstance  turn  round." 


BOOK  IV. 

1.    THEIR  HOMELY  JOYS 

The  harsh  pursuits  of  hardy  pioneers 

Who  waged  their  warfare  with  the  wilderness 

Forbade  the  play  of  superficial  life. 

For  these  stout  hearts  the  wood  and  field  required 

Continuous  conflict  with  wild  nature's  power. 

Their  path  was  traced  through  shadowy  forest  wastes 

Where  death  lay  crouching  in  a  hundred  forms, — 

In  fateful  issues  of  the  hunter's  quest, 

The  stroke  of  bear,  the  spring  of  catamount, 

The  thrust  of  wounded  deer  or  bleeding  elk 

The  covert  trail  of  cruel  timber  wolves, 

And  yet  more  stealthy  move  of  Indian  foe. 

With  falling  limb  and  blinding  winter  storm 

And  treacherous  passage  of  the  water  ways 

They  kept  a  constant  rendevous  with  death. 

For  them  the  unremitting  toils  of  life 

Gave  little  time  for  aught  save  livelihood; 

The  forest  bowed  before  the  flashing  axe, 

The  lowly  cabin  in  the  clearing  rose, 

The  log  and  brush  heap  filled  the  wood  with  smoke, 

The  gashing  plowshare  gored  the  rootbound  soil, 

The  hopeful  seed  was  flung  from  tiller's  hand, 


66  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

The  harvest  yielded  to  the  sickle's  thrust, 
And  toil  and  patience  reaped  their  scant  reward. 
Small  wonder  then  their  homely  joys  were  found 
In  pleasures  of  the  rough  and  wilder  sort, 
In  tests  of  virile  strength  and  match  of  skill 
With  axe  and  firearms  and  the  swift  canoe. 
The  dangers  of  the  wood  and  rapid  stream 
Gave  constant  challenge  to  their  daring  souls, 
The  wounded  bear  they  followed  to  the  cave, 
They  trailed  the  mountain  lion  through  the  pine, 
They  stalked  the  panther  in  his  rocky  lair, 
And  held  the  hungry  timber  wolves  at  bay. 
On  crest  of  spumy  waves  they  drove  their  barks 
Among  the  rocks  which  churned  the  rapid's  flow, 
And  fought  their  foemen  in  their  native  haunt 
With  skill  surpassing  e'en  the  Redman's  craft. 

Their  festal  days  were  spent  in  tests  of  strength, 

In  brutal  bouts  and  orgies  wild  carouse; 

The  ruder  elements  awoke  within 

The  chord  responsive  to  the  savage  strain, 

And  bestial  bedlam  ruled  their  feasts  and  games. 

And  if  to  these  were  joined  the  Indian  sports 

And  race  with  race  were  intermingled  close, 

The  play  of  passion  broke  restraining  bounds 

And  found  expression  in  the  ways  of  sin, 

And  oft  the  hidden  fires  of  smoldering  feuds 

Burst  angrily  again  to  lurid  flame. 

Or  if  the  Redman  kept  a  separate  course 

And  found  his  pleasure  only  with  his  race, 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  67 

The  customs  born  of  strange  and  cruel  rites 

Came  crowding  from  the  superstitious  past 

And  introduced  themselves  in  festal  scenes. 

Like  tides  which  draw  their  swelling  strength  from  far 

And  unrestrained  spread  their  waters  wide, 

So  from  the  dark  unfathomed  surge  of  time 

The  revelers  drew  the  meanings  of  their  rites 

And  cast  religion  in  a  mystic  mold, 

And  peopled  nature  with  a  spirit  host. 

The  winters  of  the  north  held  life  in  leash, 

Like  helpless  brooks  by  icy  fetters  bound, 

And  forests  in  their  smothering  shrouds  of  snow; 

But  with  the  coming  of  the  spring  the  leash 

Was  slipped,  the  brook  became  a  surging  flood, 

And  woodlands  waked  to  joyous  pulsing  song. 

2.    TONTI'S  MISSION 

No  sooner  had  the  low-eaved  fort  been  reared 

Upon  the  Rock  above  the  Illinois, 

Than  Sieur  La  Salle  devised  a  festal  day 

On  which  to  celebrate  its  opening, 

And  timed  it  with  the  coming  of  the  spring. 

And  that  the  tribes  through  all  the  wide  Northwest 

Might  share  the  triumph  of  the  great  event 

He  planned  to  send  a  worthy  messenger 

With  invitation  to  the  native  camps. 

Too  much  reserved  his  good  friend  D'Autray  seemed, 

So  he  was  sent  to  Crevecour  to  take  charge 

And  thus  free  Tonti  for  the  journey's  task. 


68  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

The  snow  lay  deep  upon  the  valley  floor 

And  ice  had  bound  the  river's  sluggish  flow 

When  Tonti  made  appearance  at  the  fort. 

He  spent  long  hours  each  day  o'er  maps  and  notes 

With  Sieur  La  Salle  until  the  route  was  traced, 

And  all  details  prepared  for  wintry  trip, 

Then  with  Ottonoway  he  left  the  Rock 

And  took  the  long  trail  to  the  distant  tribes. 

They  drew  a  narrow  sledge  on  which  were  stored 

Their  blankets,  snowshoes,  skillet,  axe  and  guns, 

Jerked  meat,   a  bag  of  grain,   and  varied  gifts 

Designed  for  chiefs  and  sachems  on  the  route. 

Each  carried  at  his  side  against  surprise 

A  pistol;  Tonti  also  wore  his  sword. 

Accoutred  thus  the  two  scouts  quit  the  fort 

And  started  on  the  snowy  trail  that  ran 

The  circuit  of  the  scattered  Indian  camps. 

They  went  far  north  by  way  of  Maramech, 

And  through  the  forests  to  Wisconsin's  Fox, 

And  westward  to  the  Mississippi's  shore, 

Then  southward  on  their  zigzag  course  they  wound 

Until  beside  the  Ohio's  limpid  flood 

They  turned  their  steps  toward  the  Rock  again. 

Two  moons  waxed  full  and  waned  before  their  trip 

Was  ended  and  they  climbed  the  timbered  stairs 

And  gave  report  of  all  their  wanderings, — 

What  sights  they  saw,  what  ventures  they  passed 

through, 
And  how  they  were  received  among  the  tribes. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  69 

They  told  how  on  the  start  a  storm  had  struck 

Their  trail  whilst  they  were  far  from  lodge  or  hut. 

And  sensing  danger  speedily  they  made 

At  once  rude  shelter  where  the  wind  had  piled 

The  trees  the  year  before  in  tangled  mass, 

With  trunk  on  trunk  and  interlacing  limbs, 

And  here  upon  the  leeward  side  they  leaned 

Birch  poles  and  covered  them  with  balsam  boughs, 

And  filled  the  sheltered  space  beneath  with  leaves, 

And  built  a  fire  against  the  nearby  logs. 

Then  crawling  underneath  their  piny  roof, 

They  waited  till  the  storm  swept  by  and  calm 

Came  once  again  among  the  lonely  trees, 

When  they  crept  forth  and  broke  anew  the  trail. 

One  cloudy  afternoon  along  the  Fox, 

They  heard  the  long  drawn  howl  of  timber  wolves 

And  knew  the  hungry  pack  was  on  their  trail, 

But  steadily  they  pushed  ahead  and  slept 

Between  two  blazing  fires  that  night  and  saw 

Betimes  when  rising  to  renew  the  flames, 

The  shining  eyes  which  glared  from  covert  haunt; 

But  with  the  earliest  streakings  of  the  dawn 

The  pack  dissolved  like  creatures  of  a  dream. 

In  snowbound  villages  beyond  the  Fox 

They  found  the  symbols  of  the  Jesuit  faith, — 

The  tree-formed  cross  on  which  were  hung  dyed  skins, 

Red  girdles,  bows  and  arrows, — offerings 

Which  showed  the  promptings  of  the  Indian  heart, 

And  how  the  wild  Mascoutin  sought  his  peace. 


70  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Amongst  Ojibway  wigwams  further  north 
The  winter  held  the  braves  in  thrall,  and  here 
The  inmates  gambled  with  the  cherry  stones, 
And  only  quit  the  game  when  spoils  were  gone 
And  luckless  players  parted  with  their  garb. 
Here,  too,  they  found  despondent  and  forlorn, 
A  broken  remnant  of  the  Huron  tribe, 
Half-starved,  a  prey  to  dread  and  haunting  fears, 
And  shivering  in  their  lonely  lodges  lest 
The  prowling  Iroquois  with  murderous  hands 
Should  burst  upon  the  hapless  camp  again. 
From  these  Ottonoway  and  Tonti  heard 
Such  tales  of  torture  that  the  hot  blood  chilled, 
And  even  the  sombre  listening  hemlocks  moaned 
In  sympathy  above  the  fireside  group. 

In  all  these  haunts  amongst  the  northern  tribes 
The  visitors  were  graciously  received; 
The  caches  where  the  maize  was  stored  gave  up 
A  copious  yield.     The  odorous  kettles   steamed 
As  feasts  of  dog  and  bear  meat  were  prepared 
In  honor  of  the  guests  who  bore  the  tribes 
The  invitation  for  the  festal  day 
Arranged  to  mark  the  opening  of  the  fort. 

So  crossing  frozen  swamps  where  wild  rice  stalks 
With  frayed  blades  fluttered  in  the  biting  wind, 
Ottonoway  and  Tonti  gained  the  huts 
Where  dwelt  the  hostile  Sioux,   and  here  they  found 
The  warriors  holding  council  to  prepare 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  71 

For  bloody  conquest  'gainst  the  neighboring  tribes 

With  budding  of  the  mandrakes  in  the  groves. 

But  as  these  heard  their  guests  relate  the  plans 

For  celebration  on  the  Illinois 

To  ratify  the  great  confederate  pact, 

They  modified  their  counsels  speedily, 

That  they  might  mingle  in  the  grand  event, 

And  chief  and  sachem  promised  they  would  send 

The  news  to  reach  the  others  of  their  tribe. 

Then  southward  through  the  villages  that  lay 
Along  the  Colbert's  shores,  the  messengers 
Passed  down  until  beyond  the  fettering  ice 
They  saw  the  waters  glisten  in  the  sun, 
And  roll  away  in  wide  majestic  sweep 
To  melt  upon  the  mild  horizon's  rim. 
Here  bartering  for  a  stout  canoe  they  passed 
From  tribe  to  tribe,  and  ever  as  they  held 
The  calumet  aloft  and  told  their  tale 
The  Redmen  gave  a  welcome  to  their  guests. 

Thus  to  the  lodges  where  Peoria's  tribe 

Was  domiciled  they  made  their  way,  and  ate 

Their  steaks  of  catfish  baked  on  heated  stones, 

And  told  their  story  of  the  late-built  fort 

And  celebrating  day  to  crown  the  work. 

They  passed  to  where  the  crystal  river's  flow 

Was  merged  with  dark  Des  Moines,   and  Kickapoos 

And  wild  Maroas  built  their  villages, 

Then  by  the  Alton  cliffs  upon  whose  face 


72  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Strange  creatures  of  a  hideous  shape  were  drawn, — 

Crude  deities  to  guard  the  flowing  tide. 

And  so  to  scenes  near  by  the  tawny  surge 

Of  mad  Missouri's  flood,  where  Kansa  dwelt 

With  Mahas,  Pawnees,  and  Osages  bold. 

The  round  of  generous  feasts  again  was  shared, 

Once  more  the  story  told  of  fort-crowned  Rock 

And  coming  festal  day,  and  once  again 

Their  hosts  expressed  goodwill,  and  favor  showed 

In  happy  dancing  of  the  calumet. 

At  length  their  southbound  craft  crept  round  the  point 
Where  fair  Ohio's  wealth  of  waters  merged 
With  turgid  flow  of  Colbert's  massive  flood, 
And  skirting  by  the  river's  willowy  fringe 
They  reached  the  tepees  of  the  Shawnee  tribe. 
Here  as  the  harbingers  of  spring  they  heard 
The  bluebird  and  the  robin  sing,  and  saw 
The  wild  geese  wedging  northward  in  the  blue. 
Before  their  guests  the  squaws  set  stores  of  sweets, 
Fresh  made  among  the  dripping  maple  groves. 
Here  told  again  the  visitors  their  tale 
Of  fort  erected  on  the  northern  Rock 
And  gala  muster  planned  to  celebrate. 

Among  the  warlike  Pottawattamies 
They  next  found  lodgment  where  the  Wabash  flows, 
As  they  passed  northward  on  their  homebound  course. 
With  these  they  ate  the  parched  corn  and  samp, 
And  drank  the  blood-red  sassafras  from  bowls 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  73 

Their  hosts  set  steaming  by  them  on  the  ground. 

They  crossed  the  portage  to  the  Kankakee, 

And  drifting  down  the  current  paused  brief  while 

Among  Miami  camps,  retold  their  tale, 

And  smoked  the  pipe  of  peace,  and  on  a  day 

When  sun  was  wed  to  earth  in  spring's  first  rites, 

They  passed  upon  the  swollen  Illinois 

Below  the  guardian  cliffs  which  lined  their  course, 

And  'mongst  the  green-fringed  islands  of  the  stream, 

They  saw  afar  the  lilied  flag  bestir 

Above  the  gray  roof  of  the  rock-perched  fort, 

And  drifting  round  the  mossed  and  lichened  base, 

They  tied  their  craft  and  climbed  the  timbered  stairs 

To  find  a  royal  welcome  on  the  crest. 

3.     THE  OPENING  OF  THE  FORT 

The  Judas  trees  were  blooming  on  the  bluffs, 

And  plums  were  spreading  tents  of  snowy  white 

Among  the  islands  of  the  Illinois, 

When  once  again  as  at  the  rally  held 

In  Council  Cave  the  river  teemed  with  craft 

Which  brought  the  tribes   from   still   a  wider   range. 

Again  Kaskaskia's  huts  to  overflow 

Were  filled  by  tribesmen  sensing  new  designs; 

Again  the  smoke  of  many  camps  perfumed 

The  woods  and  curled  above  the  drowsy  fires. 

This  time  the  streams  of  Indian  life  converged 
Upon  the  level  top  of  Eagle  Cliff, 


74  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

For  here  La  Salle  had  caused  his  men  to  make 
Provision  for  the  comfort  of  the  tribes 
Which  gathered  for  the  opening  of  the  fort. 
Five  thousand  warriors  from  the  nearby  camps, 
And  from  among  the  tribes  where  Tonti  passed, 
Assembled  for  the  great  triumphal  day. 
Kaskaskia's  scant  reserves  of  food,  and  all 
That  might  be  gathered  from  the  plain  and  wood, 
Or  taken  from  the  river's  fertile  breast, 
Were  stored  to  meet  the  needs  of  hungry  guests 
Who  came  the  long  trails  from  the  distant  camps. 
Abundant  piles  of  wood  were  massed  for  fires, 
And  temporary  lodges  crowned  the  cliffs 
And  all  made  ready  for  the  gala  day. 
A  running  track  had  on  the  level  ground 
Been  cleared  for  tests  of  speed.     A  longer  course 
Was  also  marked  which  ran  by  cliff  and  stream, 
And  scaled  the  bluffs  by  seeming  trackless  paths, 
So  steep  and  narrow  was  the  route  at  times. 

A  cannon  boomed  at  morning's  earliest  flush; 
Its  echoes  answered  from  the  encircling  hills, 
And  life  bestirred  within  the  waking  woods, 
Along  the  shores,  and  on  the  river's  breast. 
The  great  chiefs  of  the  near  and  distant  tribes 
Came  ere  the  sun  was  risen  two  hours  high, 
And  passed  within  the  entrance  to  the  fort 
Where  Sieur  La  Salle  and  others  of  his  aides, 
In  courtly  garb  gave  welcome  to  the  throng. 
Again,  as  at  the  Cave,  with  princely  hand 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  75 

He  lavished  gifts  upon  the  tribal  heads, — 

A  score  of  guns,  and  hatchets  for  their  needs 

He  gave  with  beads,  cloth,  shirts,  and  hunting  knives, 

And  gilded  trinkets  from  the  shops  of  France 

Brought  here  by  toilsome  labor  from  Quebec. 

Then  as  the  chiefs  reclined  beneath  the  trees, 

And  smoked  complacently  their  pipes  supplied 

With  liberal  grants  from  his  tobacco  store, 

La  Salle  harangued  his  solemn  visaged  guests : 

"This  hour  bodes  well,  my  Brothers  of  the  West, 

For  us  in  formal  conclave  met  to-day. 

In  keeping  with  the  promise  which  I  made 

But  few  short  months  ago,  you  see  this  fort 

Erected  as  the  seal  of  our  good  faith. 

To-day  we  celebrate  its  opening 

And  dedicate  it  to  our  mutual  weal; 

Here  are  the  towers  whose  guns  command  yon  stream, 

And  pledge  protection  to  your  fields  and  homes; 

Here  other  structures  soon  will  grace  this  Rock, 

Receive  your  furs  and  give  a  fair  exchange; 

Here  floats  the  flag  of  France  whose  lilied  folds 

Assure  the  safety  of  the  weakest  tribe; 

Here  you  have  gathered  from  afar  and  near 

To  pledge  allegiance  in  the  common  cause, 

And  from  this  spot  good-will  and  brotherhood 

Shall  emanate  from  tribe  to  tribe  as  far 

As  Colbert  and  his  rivers  drain  the  land. 

Take,  then,  these  guns  and  use  them  in  the  chase, 

And  for  protection  of  your  forest  homes, 

But  never  in  the  fratricidal  fray; 


76  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

i 

And  with  these  hatchets  make  you  scaffolds  firm 
Against  the  winds  to  hold  your  honored  dead, 
And  to  confirm  your  confidence  in  us 
I  pledge  in  turn  with  these  the  faith  of  France." 

So  saying  he  two  costly  wampum  belts 

Held  up  and  passed  to  right  and  left,  then  lit 

His  treasured  calumet  and  handed  it 

From  chief  to  chief.     Thus  on  the  fort  crowned  Rock 

The  bond  of  fealty  was  ratified. 

Whilst  thus  engaged  a  band  of  black-robed  priests 

Te  Deum  sang  with  lusty  voices  clear, 

Which  rang  above  the  peaceful  Illinois, 

And  stilled  the  thousands  gathered  on  the  stream, 

The  further  bank,  and  all  about  the  rim 

Of  wooded  bluffs  toward  the  east  and  south. 

Then  on  the  signal  from  the  Sieur  La  Salle 

The  great  guns  of  the  fort  boomed  thunderously, 

The  lilied  banner  of  old  France  was  run 

Above  the  eastern  tower,  and  lower  down 

A  string  of  pennants  passed  from  tower  to  tower, 

Each  bearing  on  its  face  the  totem  sign 

Of  one  or  other  of  the  assembled  tribes, 

And  thus  designed  to  grace  the  river  front 

And  give  the  chiefs  surprise.     Then  underneath 

The  floating  banner  stood  the  Sieur  La  Salle 

And  said  as  on  his  gesture  rose  the  throng: 

"By  virtue  of  the  power  of  our  Great  Prince, 

The  mighty  and  most  high  Louis  Fourteenth, 

Invincible,  victorious  King  of  France, 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  77 

Who  by  the  grace  of  God  reigns  over  seas, 

And  holds  this  continent  by  rightful  sway, 

I,  on  this  first  of  May,  and  in  the  year 

Of  sixteen  hundred  eighty  three,  A.  D., 

By  right  of  my  commission  signed  by  him, 

Our  most  puissant  King,  do  hereby  name 

This  post  in  honor  of  His  Majesty 

Fort  St.  Louis,  and  take  possession  here, 

For  him  and  his  successors  to  the  crown, 

Of  this  domain  and  all  the  nations,  tribes, 

Towns,  cities,  villages,  resources,  woods, 

Mines,  minerals,  within  the  boundaries 

Drained  by  the  Colbert  and  his  streams. 

And  being  first  of  European  powers 

To  visit  in  these  virgin  wilds  we  hold 

The  right  of  the  discoverer  to  claim 

These  lands  in  honor  of  our  noble  King. 

And  since  accorded  to  the  Crown  by  tribes 

In  solemn  council  met  we  will  protest 

All  who  attempt  invasion  of  these  realms. 

Of  this  and  all  made  needful  by  our  pledge 

We  take  our  oath  beneath  the  flag  of  France.*' 

On  this  the  muskets'  volleyed  concert  broke 
The  stillness  reigning  for  the  formal  hour, 
And  once  again  the  thundrous  cannon  boomed, 
And  all  the  thousands  on  the  circling  bluffs, 
The  river  and  the  farther  shore,  sent  up 
A  ringing  shout  which  echoed  from  the  hills. 
Then  heartily  the  black-robed  priests  sang  clear 


78  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Vexilla  Regis  on  the  scented  air, 

And  so  they  dedicated  Rock  and  Fort. 

This  ceremony  at  an  end,  La  Salle 

Extended  invitation  to  the  chiefs 

To  view  the  fort  within,  and  led  the  way 

Where  they  might  see  his  start  of  enterprise, — 

His  store  of  goods  and  stacks  of  valued  pelts, 

The  earnest  of  success  in  future  trade. 

Monongonee  with  others  moved  about, 

And  while  at  length  before  the  fort  La  Salle 

Discoursed  on  further  projects  he  devised, 

The  chieftain  lingered  in  the  room  within 

And  longing  gazed  upon  the  tomahawk 

Still  resting  high  above  the  hearth  as  hung 

That  gusty  night  when  D'Autray  told  his  tale. 

Alone  at  last  he  reached  with  stealthy  hand 

To  draw  the  weapon  'neath  his  blanket's  fold, 

When  Tonti  in  the  door  behind  appeared. 

The  Indian  stayed  his  hand  and  through  strained  lids 

He  flashed  his  hate  and  said,  "I  wished  to  see." 

And  Tonti  looking  squarely  at  the  chief 

Remarked  with  dryness,  "Yes,  one  sees  it  best 

While  holding  it,"  where  on  the  chief  strode  out 

And  Tonti  took  the  weapon  for  the  time 

And  locked  it  safely  in  his  steel-bound  chest, 

And  gave  the  sentry  orders  to  observe 

Who  came  and  went  thereafter  through  the  room. 

Beneath  the  trees  upon  the  gray  Rock's  crest 
La  Salle  next  gave  his  guests  abundant  feast, 


ALONE   AT   LAST   HE   REACHED   WITH    STEALTHY   HAND 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  79 

Then  all  passed  down  and  crossed  to  Eagle  Cliff. 
Here  festive  kettles  steamed  above  the  fires, 
Attended  by  a  throng  of  stolid  squaws 
Whose  yelling  children  raced  beneath  the  trees, 
And  'mongst  the  groups  of  warriors  lounging  there. 
Through  this  thick  swarming  mass  of  life  La  Salle 
Passed  with  the  chiefs  and  gained  the  late  cleared 

ground 
Where  in  the  course  of  time  the  games  were  called. 
Here  in  the  tests  of  speed  Ottonoway 
Held  easily  the  victor's  place,  although 
A  hundred  fleet-limbed  runners  vied  in  sport, 
And  pressed  the  races  on  the  woodland  course. 
Of  these,  a  stripling,  Ouma,  he  who  once 
Had  led  the  hunters  on  the  Kankakee 
To  where  his  chief  was  tied  a  prey  for  wolves, — 
Now  grown  to  manhood,  swift  of  foot  ran  close 
Beside  Ottonoway,  yet  always  lost, 
And  showed  his  spleen  in  jealous  thrusts  of  hate. 
He  claimed  adoption  by  the  Illinois, 
And  though  an  alien,  classed  himself  as  such. 

A  Winnebago  won  in  leaping  feats, 

For  trained  far  north  upon  the  snow  to  ski, 

He'd  learned  to  dare  the  wildest  jumps  and  seemed 

To  skim  the  spaces  with  a  panther's  ease. 

The  prize  for  skill  with  bow  and  arrow  fell 

To  an  Ojibway  chief  whose  flint-chipped  dart 

At  forty  paces  peeled  a  hazel  wand, 

And  who  with  second  shaft  cut  clean  the  stem 


80  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Of  post  oak  leaf  set  as  a  fluttering  mark. 

In  skill  of  wrestling  bouts  a  Frenchman  won, 

And  threw  all  comers  who  were  matched  with  him, 

For  but  few  years  before  he'd  learned  the  tricks 

Of  soldiers  and  of  sailors  so  that  none 

Among  the  Indians  or  his  countrymen, 

Could  hold  against  the  cunning  of  his  strength. 

In  trials  of  their  rifles  put  to  test 

Ottonoway  again  won  victory. 

From  Eagle  Cliff  he  shot  across  the  space 

To  point  beside  the  fort  where  had  been  set 

A  pole  to  which  a  walnut  was  attached, 

And  after  many  guns  had  been  discharged 

In  vain  attempt  to  hit  the  dangling  mark 

He  took  his  aim  and  sent  the  speeding  ball 

From  height  to  height  and  smote  the  baffling  nut 

And  knocked  it  shattered  from  its  dizzy  hold. 

In  sports  like  these  the  hours  wore  on, 

And  then  to  close  the  contests  of  the  day 

They  called  the  long  race  on  the  broken  course 

Which  lay  across  the  bluffs  toward  the  west. 

The  runners  gathered  round  the  Sieur  La  Salle 

Protesting  that  Ottonoway  should  race. 

He  knew  the  course,  they  claimed,  and  with  his  speed, 

No  runner  with  him  fairly  could  compete. 

The  young  chief  on  his  part  disclaimed  he  knew 

The  course,  except  between  the  fort  and  Cliff, 

Where  all  alike  might  know  if  they  but  looked, 

And  eager  to  maintain  a  runner's  rights, 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  81 

Besought  in  turn  the  privilege  to  race. 

La  Salle  gave  verdict  should  the  chieftain  run 

He  must  give  handicap  a  hundred  yards; 

With  readiness  of  youth,  Ottonoway 

At  once  acceded  to  the  rule  imposed. 

Then  down  the  cliff  the  runners  passed  and  went 

Along  the  course  marked  out  for  them, — a  trail 

Of  trees  fresh-blazed  and  leading  up  and  down 

Among  the  canyons  and  along  the  bluffs, 

A  mile  toward  the  west.     Should  runner  veer 

For  more  than  forty  yards  on  either  side 

The  axe-notched  trees  and  miss  the  plain  marked  course, 

He  then  would  be  disqualified,  but  all 

Within  this  space  of  four  score  yards  was  range 

Where  each  for  self  might  choose  the  easiest  path 

To  reach  the  summit  of  the  Eagle  Cliff. 

The  runners  slowly  moved  along  this  trail 

And  noted  every  feature  by  the  way 

Where  leap  might  count,  or  grasp  of  bush  might  help, 

Or  level  space  give  chance  for  burst  of  speed; 

And  at  the  further  end  they  ranged  in  line, 

Full  sixty  athletes  from  the  gathered  tribes, 

Clad  in  their  breech  cloths  and  their  moccasins. 

A  hundred  yards  behind  this  virile  row 

Ottonoway  was  placed  upon  his  mark, 

Then  when  from  Eagle  Cliff  a  gun  was  fired, 

All  toed  the  scratch  and  at  a  rifle's  shot 

Leaped  forward  with  the  flash,  and  so  were  gone 

Like  deer  which  run  before  the  timber  wolves. 


82  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

They  take  the  stream  before  with  nimble  bound, 

They  climb  the  bushy  cliff  and  gain  the  top, 

They  race  along  the  summit's  dizzy  edge, 

They  plunge  with  cat-like  leaps  from  ledge  to  rock 

And  reach  a  canyon's  floor,  then  climb  again 

The  bush-grown  walls  by  slippery  paths  and  so 

Up,  on,  then  sharply  down  again;  they  gain 

A  lower  level  leading  to  the  notch 

Behind  the  fort  and  make  the  last  descent 

Before  the  final  climb  to  Eagle  Cliff; 

And  all  the  course  bears  traces  of  the  race, — 

A  cast-off  moccasin,  a  runner  down, 

A  broken  bush  upon  the  canyon's  side, 

Or  slide  upon  the  slope  where  foot  has  slipped. 

As  forward  pressed  the  race,  two  led  the  troop, 

The  Winnebago  and  the  Illinois, 

Who  in  the  earlier  sports  had  shown  their  skill, 

And  now  were  seeming  victors  of  the  race, 

For  yards  ahead  they  led  the  rushing  throng 

And  sped  the  course  with  ease  of  flying  fox. 

Meantime  Ottonoway  with  runner's  skill, 

Had  pressed  the  race  with  strength  and  speed  reserved; 

Soon  had  he  gained  upon  the  streaming  throng, 

And  passed  the  hindmost  stragglers  on  the  course, 

And  steadily  by  twos  and  threes  and  tens 

Sped  by  the  racers  till  but  four  remained 

Between  himself  and  those  who  led  the  group; 

These  four  he  passed  upon  the  sandy  slope 

Which  led  within  the  notch  behind  the  fort, 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  83 

Where  as  he  gained  this  vantage  spot  he  saw 

The  Illinois  run  thirty  yards  ahead, 

The  Winnebago  half  the  space  behind. 

As  down  the  slope  toward  the  stream  he  dashed, 

He  like  the  Winnebago  veered  sharp  south, 

And  leaped  the  channel  with  an  agile  bound 

From  edge  of  sharp  cut  rock  and  so  across 

To  equal  point,  and  thus  escaped  the  climb 

Of  space  which  lost  the  Illinois  his  lead 

And  forced  him  into  place  beside  the  chief, 

The  Winnebago  slightly  in  advance. 

And  now  they  climb,  Ottonoway  knows  well 

This  portion  of  the  course,  and  in  short  time 

He  leaves  behind  the  wrathful  Illinois, 

And  up  the  Cliff  with  nimble  feet  he  speeds, 

The  Winnebago  soon  he  passes  by, 

And  gains  the  summit  and  the  screeching  crowd, 

And  is  proclaimed  the  victor  of  the  day. 

And  as  the  final  runners  one  by  one 
Climb  up,  and  panting  lie  upon  the  ground, 
La  Salle  among  the  assembled  chiefs  bestows 
Six  rifles  as  the  prizes  for  the  race. 
The  one  Ottonoway  receives  is  trimmed 
With  mountings  of  the  gunsmith's  finest  art; 
And  in  the  glow  upon  the  young  chief's  face 
And  in  Neonee's  flush  as  she  stands  near, 
And  in  the  scowl  upon  the  rival's  brow 
One  plainly  reads  the  age-old  passions  play 
In  pride  and  love  and  envious  jealousy. 


84  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 


4.    THE  CALUMET  DANCE 

With  sunset's  colors  fading  in  the  sky, 

The  May  night  shadows  gathered  round  the  Rock, 

And  denser  darkness  filled  the  canyons'  depths. 

The  Indian  fires  on  Eagle  Cliff's  wide  top 

Glowed  brighter  with  the  deepening  of  the  night, 

And  round  them  stirred  the  children  and  the  squaws, 

And  in  their  shadows  sat  the  braves  and  chiefs, 

And  here  and  there  amid  the  firelit  throngs, 

Was  heard  the  booming  of  the  hollow  drum 

And  sharp  staccato  of  the  rattling  gourd. 

Across  the  sable  curtained  stretch  of  night, 

The  fort,  aglow  with  myriad  tallow  dips, 

Shone  like  a  flaming  lighthouse  on  the  Rock; 

The  entrance  gates  stood  wide,  the  slopes  were  lit 

By  flaring  pine-knots  set  among  the  trees; 

A  double  guard  was  placed  above  the  stairs 

And  strong  reserves  stood  by  in  reach  of  arms, 

For  though  the  festive  functions  of  the  day 

Bode  happily  for  future  peace  and  weal, 

La  Salle  well  knew  that  vigilance  must  mark 

Each  step  of  enterprise  among  the  tribes, 

Lest  at  some  point  unguarded  all  might  fail; 

So  here  while  gracious  hospitality 

Kept  open  house,  the  eye  was  on  the  watch. 

Meantime  as  night  wrapped  shadows  round  the  Rock, 
The  springs  of  action  moved  on  Eagle  Cliff, 
Among  the  swarthy  circles  round  the  fires, 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  85 

Where  old  men  told  the  tales  of  councils  when 

Grave  treaties  by  the  tribes  were  ratified, 

And  in  the  ceaseless  throbbing  of  the  drums, 

One  common  impulse  seemed  to  rise  and  spread 

Until  the  whole  assembly  thrilled  to  it, 

And  gave  it  voice  as  thus  a  great  chief  spoke: 

"My  brothers,  let  us  take  the  calumet 

And  go  upon  the  Rock,  and  with  the  dance 

Give  Sieur  La  Salle  the  pledge  of  our  good  faith." 

At  once  along  the  bluff  and  through  the  wood, 

The  thrill  of  purpose  stirred  the  throng  to  life, 

And  rising  from  their  seats  upon  the  ground, 

And  gathering  round  their  leaders  in  the  glare 

Of  camp-fires  and  the  flaring  knots  of  pine, 

The  whole  vast  company  began  to  form 

In  wild  procession  to  the  beat  of  drums, 

And  rhythmic  rattle  of  their  dancing  gourds. 

They  wound  about  the  summit  of  the  bluff, 

With  heavy  chant  and  deep-toned  chorusing, 

Which  timed  itself  to  throbbing  of  the  drums 

And  thumpings  of  the  pebbles  in  the  gourds; 

Then  at  the  edge  with  frantic  yells  and  leaps, 

They  bounded  down  the  steep   and   dangerous  paths 

With  seeming  recklessness  of  life  and  limb. 

And  yet  this  mighty  human  cataract 

Poured  down  the  wild  and  rugged  canyon  wall 

Without  the  breaking  of  a  bone.     In  glare 

Of  burning  brands  and  flaming  knots  of  pine, 

The  horde  flowed  to  the  base  and  leaped  the  stream, 

Then  with  the  rhythmic  chant  resumed  again, 


86  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

They  swarmed  along  the  sandy  upward  trail 
And  clambered  up  the  stairway  of  the  Rock, 
And  crowded  through  the  gateway  of  the  fort, 
Where  Sieur  La  Salle  in  regal  raiment  garbed, 
With  his  associates  a  welcome  waved, 
And  waited  for  the  issue  of  their  act. 

First  as  the  throng  assembled  on  the  Rock, 

A  chief  unrolled  and  spread  a  rush-wove  mat, 

Another  on  this  laid  a  beaver  robe, 

And  on  it  others  placed  their  manitous. 

Then  next  they  spread  about  their  warrior  arms, 

As  though  to  form  a  trophy  with  their  bows 

And  arrows,  quivers,  hatchets,  clubs  and  guns, 

And  in  the  centre  of  this  tribal  gear, 

With  reverent  hand  they  laid  the  calumet, — 

A  red  stone  pipe  cut  from  the  plastic  vein 

In  distant  quarry  by  Superior's  shore, 

And  furnished  with  a  stem  of  straight-grown  ash, 

From  which  there  hung  long  tufts  of  ebon  hair, 

And  feathers  of  the  eagle  and  the  owl. 

And  as  each  sachem  filed  to  take  his  seat 

He  gave  his  tribal  god  revered  address, 

And  stooped  to  lift  the  sacred  pipe,  and  danced 

With  graceful  sway  while  holding  it  aloft 

And  blowing  forth  the  smoke  in  fleecy  clouds. 

So  passed  the  lengthy  file  of  chiefs  and  sat, 

While  warriors  ranged  behind,  and  all  the  space 

Became  a  hive  of  animated  life 

In  which  were  mingled  squaws  and  screeching  boys. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  87 

Now  from  the  circle  of  the  chiefs  there  rose 
One  perfect  as  Apollo  in  physique, 
And  passing  to  the  mat  he  took  the  pipe 
And  raised  it  toward  the  sky  as  though 
He  summoned  all  the  glittering  stars  of  night 
To  witness  here  the  pledging  of  their  faith. 
To  earth,  to  wood,  and  to  the  stream  below, 
He  reached  the  calumet  as  offering  these 
To  share  with  them  the  tribes'  fidelity. 
All  this  he  did  to  rhythmic  throb  of  drums, 
And  rattling  clash  of  pebbles  in  the  gourds, 
And  chanted  cadences  of  Indian  voice. 
Thus  gracefully  the  dancing  chief  advanced 
Around  the  circle,  and  the  mouth-piece  pressed 
Against  the  lips  of  brother  chiefs  who  drew 
The  smoke  and  blew  it  high  in  curling  clouds. 

Then  next  the  dancer  beckoned  from  the  group 

A  second  chief  who  rose  and  from  the  mat 

Took  bow  and  arrow  as  for  fatal  strife, 

And  with  poised  dart  and  threatening  look  of  hate, 

Rushed  to  the  fray,  when  lo :  the  calumet 

Is  interposed  and  panic  claims  the  foe, 

And  back  he  draws  and  runs  in  craven  flight. 

Thus  each  advance  and  threat  the  foe  may  make 

Is  thwarted  by  the  magic  calumet, 

Moved  rhythmicly  to  keep  the  time  with  chant 

Of  deep-toned  voices  in  the  circling  throng, — 

Such  power  lies  hidden  in  the  sacred  pipe. 

At  length  the  chorus  dies  to  silence,  then 


88  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

The  bearer  of  the  calumet  relates 

The  list  of  battles  he  has  fought  afield, 

And  names  the  places  where  the  strife  was  joined, 

The  tribes  that  waged  the  conflict  with  his  own, 

What  captives  by  his  vengeful  hands  were  bound 

And  led  afar  from  thence  in  servile  file 

To  burn  at  stake  or  till  his  fields  of  maize. 

When  thus  he  had  harangued  his  auditors, 

A  patriarchal  chief  unrolled  a  robe 

Of  beaver-skins  which  round  the  dancer's  form 

He  threw,  and  bade  him  pass  the  calumet 

From  hand  to  hand  until  the  elder  chief 

Received  it  once  again  and  blew  the  smoke, 

Now  toward  the  moon  and  now  toward  the  earth, 

Then  handed  it  in  grave  and  reverent  act 

To  Sieur  La  Salle  while  thus  he  spoke  and  sealed 

The  covenanted  pact  before  the  throng: 

"The  sun  has  looked  upon  our  tribes  today 

As  we  have  gathered  here  to  seal  our  faith 

And  pledge  the  loyal  feeling  of  our  hearts; 

Long  as  he  shines  above  this  noble  Rock, 

Long  as  the  waters  lave  its  moss-grown  base, 

Long  as  the  moons  shall  follow  in  their  file, 

And  long  as  any  remnant  of  our  tribes 

Shall  range  these  prairies,  we  will  keep  the  faith 

Which  we  have  plighted  with  you  here  this  day; 

In  testimony  of  this  faith  assured, 

We  give  the  calumet  and  with  it  give 

Our  yet  most  sacred  treaty  wampum  belt." 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  89 

With  this  he  there  unrolled  a  shell-wrought  scarf, 
On  which  by  arduous  toil  of  skillful  hands, 
Were  worked  the  figures  of  an  Indian  chief 
And  leader  of  the  French  joined  hand  in  hand, 
In  token  of  a  lasting  brotherhood 
Resolved  to  keep  inviolate  their  pledge. 

To  him  La  Salle  replied  in  happy  terms : 

"Right  glad  are  we  to  here  confirm  this  pact 

By  which  the  tribes  are  leagued  with  power  of  France, 

And  on  our  part  we  covenant  to  keep 

The  faith  as  brothers  in  one  family  born. 

This  fort,  these  guns,  our  valiant  soldiery, 

And  all  that  might  of  arms  can  hold  secure, 

We  pledge  in  here  maintaining  your  defense. 

The  traffic  needful  for  the  tribes'  supply 

We  will  protect  at  any  cost,  and  send 

Among  your  camps  the  teachers  of  the  Word 

Who  shall  declare  to  you  the  way  of  life. 

The  seal  of  faith  we  set  upon  our  pledge, 

Confirming  it  with  gift  of  gun  and  gear." 

Then  to  each  chief  some  token  of  good-will 
He  gave  with  hand  so  free  and  generous 
His  store  of  kettles,  hatchets,  pistols,  guns, 
And  other  ware  was  well-nigh  made  deplete; 
But  by  his  gifts  he  larger  favor  won, 
And  long  the  chiefs  and  sachems  on  the  Rock 
Sat  smoking  as  they  counciled  how  they  might 
Confirm  and  strengthen  from  the  Lakes  to  Gulf 


90  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

The  terms  of  covenant  they  made  that  day. 

Still  further  feasting  followed  on  the  Rock, 

And  then  in  gladsome  dance  the  chanting  throng 

Surged  down  the  stairway  to  the  level  plain, 

Where  fiercer  and  more  savage  revels  ran 

Their  race  with  passing  hours  in  wild  excess 

Of  rude  barbaric  joy.     The  Indians  leaped 

And  yelled  and  rolled  upon  the  sandy  soil, 

And  tossed  their  tomahawks  in  whirling  flight 

And  caught  them  with  deft  hand  on  their  return. 

One  incident  alone  that  boisterous  night 

Bore  augury  of  ill, — a  weapon  thrown 

From  out  the  surging  crowd  against  the  tree 

Where  stood  Neonee  and  Ottonoway, 

To  watch,  removed,  the  orgy's  wild  carouse. 

Yet  by  what  hand  the  tomahawk  was  thrown, 

And  for  what  purpose  none  might  then  divine, 

But  had  a  close  observer  seen  the  glint 

Which  shot  through  fierce  Monongonee's  drawn  lids, 

Or  glimpsed  the  furtive  smile  on  Ouma's  face, 

He  might  have  sensed  the  plottings  of  a  crime 

And  trailed  the  craven  act  to  felon  source. 


BOOK  V. 

1.    THE  DEEPENING  OF  THE   SPRING 

As  springtime's  season  lengthens  into  June 

The  forest  verdure  shifts  to  deeper  green, 

The  maizefields  stir  with  newly  planted  life, 

The  river  mirrors  all  the  lovely  forms 

That  droop  in  gracefulness  along  her  shores; 

The  black  bass  leap  above  the  silvery  flood 

In  ecstasy  of  life's  abounding  joy, 

And  kindly  nature  smiles  upon  the  scene 

Atoning  for  her  wintry  cruelties. 

The  violets  in  sunny  nooks  long  since 

Have  dropped  their  faded  hoods  in  graves  of  green. 

The  ferns  in  mossy  beds  unroll  their  fronds 

Like  hairy  little  fledglings  half  awake. 

The  thrush's  song,  the  robin's  roundelay, 

The  flicker's  rolling  note,  the  dove's  low  moan, 

Make  minstrelsy  as  in  enchanted  land, 

And"  bluffs  re-echo  to  the  calls  of  love. 

The  mallard's  mate  from  noisy  flock  retired, 

Has  built  her  down-lined  nest  among  the  reeds 

And  hatched  her  brood  of  fluffy  young,  and  led 

Her  nimble  charges  to  their  feeding  grounds. 

The  bison  calves  now  frisk  about  their  dams 

In  sportive  play  upon  the  rolling  lands, 

And  with  the  dawn  of  each  June  day  there  breaks 


92  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

The  hollow  booming  of  the  prairie  cock, 

And  bird-songs  from  the  woodland  fill  the  hours, 

And  float  across  the  plains  and  down  the  vales; 

And  when  the  deepening  season's  balmy  night 

Drops  silently  her  shrouding  curtain  folds, 

A  mellow  music  through  the  darkness  drifts 

With  subtle  sweetness  of  a  pleasant  dream, — 

The  fall  of  waters  tinkling  in  the  glens, 

The  kildee  calling  in  his  vagrant  flight, 

The  brown  owl  trilling  soft  his  song  of  love, 

The  red-fox  answering  to  his  barking  mate, 

And  moonlight  flooding  all  the  land  with  gold. 

On  night  like  this  La  Salle  upon  the  Rock 

Beside  the  strongwalled  fort  dreams  as  he  stands 

And  drinks  the  beauty  of  the  moonlight  scene. 

He  sees  the  vision  of  his  enterprise 

Take   form  and  substance  as  a  dream  made  real, — 

Vast  fleets  of  elm  canoe  sweep  to  the  Rock, 

And  cargoes  of  rich  peltries  are  discharged; 

New  convoys  here  make  up  and  pass  down  stream 

To  gather  other  stores  along  their  route, 

And  voyage  on  to  France  from  Colbert's  mouth. 

He  sees  the  line  of  growing  Empire  stretched 

From  Anticosti,  up  the  river's  length, 

By  way  of  wild  Niagara,  the  Lakes, 

This   Rock,   Prudhomme,  the  Fort  upon  the  Gulf, — 

And  wealth  and  fame  and  power,  the  triple  crown 

Which  he  would  place  upon  his  nation's  brow. 

But  even  as  he  dreams  the  vision  fades, 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  93 

The  moon  is  quickly  overcast  by  clouds, 
A  storm  sweeps  suddenly  across  the  sky 
And  dims  the  stellar  lights  with  dark  and  rain. 

2.    THE  CANYON  OF  THE  DEER 

Ottonoway  by  Arimoni's  flood 

Sat  resting  from  the  chase;  June  crowned  the  hills 

With  richest  flowers  and  densest  foliage. 

From  hidden  seat  he  could  observe  each  way 

The  river  in  approach  and  onward  flow. 

The  stream  was  running  high  from  copious  rains 

Which   for  three  days  and  nights  had  drenched  the 

plains 
Around  the  source,  and  now  the  tawny  tide 
Was  roaring  down  its  channel's  tortuous  course. 
Beneath  his  tree  the  scout  looked  on  the  flood, 
And  on  the  moment  was  aware  a  craft 
Was  laboring  against  the  rushing  tide, 
And  slowly  urged  along  the  further  shore 
By  two  strong  Indians, — one  Monongonee, 
The  other,  Ouma,  his  young  satellite. 
Almost  upon  the  instant  down  the  stream 
A  barge  with  seven  braves  shot  into  view, 
And  closing  with  the  other  passed  from  sight 
Against  the  northern  bank  as  though  the  hill 
Had  swallowed  them  a  stone's  throw  from  his  seat. 

The  hunter  knew  the  place;  that  here  the  way 
Led  back  within  a  canyon  where  the  floor 


94  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Was  surfaced  by  the  Arimoni's  flood, 

And  in  the  entrance  there  on  either  hand, 

One  from  his  craft  at  rest  might  almost  touch 

The  sharp-cut  walls  with  his  short  paddles  tip. 

The  only  spot  for  landing  in  such  time 

Within  the  flooded  glen,  a  cave-like  shelf, 

Where  at  the  canon's  head  the  waters  swirled 

Around  a  glittering  cascade's  foaming  base, 

And  cut  among  the  rocks  a  giant  bowl, 

Made,  so  tradition  said,  for  Manitou. 

Here  to  this  canyon  when  the  floor  was  drained, 

The  circling  Indians  drove  the  panting  deer 

And  slaughtered  there  the  herd.    Now  on  its  flood 

Monongonee  led  in  his  visitors, 

And  one  might  know  the  act  presaged  some  plot 

As  dark  and  wild  as  was  the  cavern's  stream. 

The  laboring  craft  were  stayed  beside  the  shelf 

Which  spread  far  back  beneath  the  crumbling  rock, 

And  here  Monongonee  with  careful  foot 

Stepped  lightly  to  the  slippery  landing-place 

And  motioned  with  impatient  hand  his  guests 

To  seats  upon  the  rocky  cavern  floor, 

Then  scowling  darkly  said,  "What  madness  this 

Which  sends  the  birch-bark  message  to  my  hut, 

And  bids  me  meet  you  here?     Do  you  not  know 

A  watchful  panther  crouches  on  the  Rock? 

La  Salle,  no  squaw-chief  with  a  heart  of  crow, 

Defends  the  Illinois  and  kindered  tribes, 

And  coming  now  to  such  a  place  as  this 

It  is  to  bolt  within  the  wild  beast's  lair." 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  95 

To  him  the  leader  of  the  band  replied, 

"What  danger  here?     Disguised  as  Kickapoos, 

We  pass  unchallenged  down  this  treacherous  stream, 

We  here  confer  an  hour,  and  then  are  gone 

Like  morning  mists  from  off  the  meadow's  breast, 

And  who  is  wiser  for  our  fleeting  stay? 

Besides  our  chief  has  bade  us  test  this  stream, 

And  see  if  we  may  lead  our  bands  by  it 

When  with  the  coming  of  the  autumn  frosts, 

We  plan  again  to  spoil  the  Illinois. 

From  you  we  are  to  learn  conditions  here, 

How  best  to  make  attack,  then  hastening  home, 

Report  and  guide  our  warriors  to  the  fray." 

Monongonee,  appeased,  sat  for  the  hour 
And  told  the  spies  what  late  events  transpired 
Upon  the  Rock  and  in  the  Indian  town; 
How  distant  tribes  were  moving  to  the  place 
And  building  wigwams  'neath  the  sheltering  guns. 
Upon  a  roll  of  bark  he  sketched  a  map 
To  show  where  guides  should  meet  the  Iroquois, 
How  time  their  fleet  to  sail  the  Illinois, 
Where  leave  the  river  for  the  valley  trail, 
What  paths  to  take,  what  ambuscades  to  set, 
Where  best  to  make  attack  upon  the  fort, 
How  strike  Kaskaskia  at  the  sunset  hour 
And  drive  the  panic-striken  natives  west, 
And  then  returning,  sack  the  captured  fort, 
And  leave  the  Rock  with  smoking  ruin  crowned. 


96  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Meantime  Ottonoway  passed  down  the  shore 
And  found  his  boat  and  crossed  the  raging  stream, 
And  climbed  the  steep,  and  on  the  dizzy  edge 
Looked  down  upon  the  canyon's  seething  flood. 
He  saw  the  craft  below  and  guessed  some  plot 
Were  being  hatched  upon  the  shelf  beneath, 
But  search  as  best  he  might  he  found  no  spot 
Where  he  could  see  the  group  in  council  met, 
And  so,  impatient,  waited  through  the  hour 
And  saw  at  length  the  company  depart, 
Mistrusting  that  the  braves  were  Iroquois. 
Once  on  the  Arimoni's  boiling  flood, 
Monongonee's  canoe  sped  down  the  stream, 
The  spies  crossed  over  and  in  single  file 
Passed  quickly  to  the  prairies  of  the  south, 
And  evening  found  them  many  miles  removed. 

Ottonoway  told  Sieur  La  Salle  that  day 
What  he  had  seen  by  Arimoni's  stream 
And  in  the  flooded  Canyon  of  the  Deer, 
And  how  he  thought  the  visitors  were  spies, 
But  could  not  bring  the  proof  beyond  the  fact 
He'd  found  a  dart-head  of  peculiar  type 
Upon  the  cave-like  shelf  within  the  glen 
Where  sat  the  braves  with  fierce  Monongonee. 
La  Salle  gave  answer  thus  to  his  grave  guide: 
"  'Tis  not  in  reason  spies  should  come  so  near, 
Besides  our  hunters  bring  no  word  of  foe 
On  plain,  in  wood,  or  by  the  water  ways. 
They're  only  friends  of  wild  Monongonee 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  97 

Who  visit  him  to  plan  a  hunting  trip, 

Or  autumn  journey  to  some  neighboring  tribe. 

However,  it  is  strange  that  they  should  come 

By  such  a  route  and  meet  in  such  a  spot. 

It  may  be  well  to  watch  that  wary  wolf, 

Who  keeps  La  Vantum  in  disturbed  foment, 

And  send  him  on  an  errand  to  Crevecour 

To  help  Jacques  D'Autray  bring  the  anvil  here 

We're  needing  for  the  gunsmith's   forge  and  shop." 

And  so  it  was  in  false  security 

La  Salle  awaited  issues,  blind  to  signs 

Which  threatened  overthrow  to  cherished  plans, 

And  watched  in  vain  for  coming  of  supplies 

Long  overdue  and  needed  in  the  fort. 

3.     NEONEE 

Neonee  in  the  darkness  of  the  night 

Had  fled  Monongonee's  rude  hut  in  haste. 

A  savage  orgy  through  the  evening  hours 

Held  bedlam  session  in  the  wild  abode, 

And  broke  at  length  in  brutal  violence 

About  the  hapless  Indian  maiden's  head. 

Young  Ouma  urged  his  heated  suit  of  love 

And  strove  to  win  by  force.     Monongonee 

With  counter  craft  in  mind,  had  struck  him  down 

And  said,  "You  want  to  cross  our  plans  too  soon." 

Then  in  the  brawl  Neonee  slipped  away, 

And  night  received  her  as  a  faithful  nurse. 


98  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Couched  on  a  mossy  mound  beneath  an  elm 

She  slept  that  night  and  with  the  light  of  dawn 

Fled  from  the  village  in  her  birch  canoe, 

And  sought  the  odorous  woods  to  spend  the  day 

Until  the  hut's  vexed  currents  should  subside. 

She  pushed  her  little  vessel  from  the  shore, 

And  rode  the  waters  like  a  fairy  sprite, 

Fresh  as  the  dawn  and  flashing  as  the  dew, 

A  creature  lovely  as  the  rosy  morn. 

With  graceful  motion  like  the  sway  of  limbs 

When  gentle  winds  bestir  the  lacy  larch, 

She  moved  her  paddle,  and  with  rhythmic  stroke 

She  drove  her  craft  mid-current  down  the  stream, 

Until  among  the  willows  to  the  west, 

She  saw  the  Arimoni's  silvery  lane 

Lead  down  from  rugged  forest-covered  hills, 

Then  up  its  shimmering  course  she  pushed  her  barque. 

Oftimes  she  quit  the  stream  and  climbed  the  slopes, 

Or  silent  sat  among  the  shadowy  rocks 

To  watch  the  playful  sports  of  silvan  life. 

The  squirrel,  surprised  to  find  her  there,  gave  vent 

To  ruffled  feelings  with  his  scolding  bark, 

Until  he  heard  her  answering  call,  then  came 

And  frisked  upon  the  log  before  her  seat. 

A  mother  grouse  led  by  her  furry  brood, 
And  when  almost  against  Neonee's  foot, 
She  saw  the  maiden's  form  and  gave  alarm 
And  as  by  magic  disappeared  her  flock, — 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  99 

The  only  tell-tale  token  of  their  fright 
Was  one  wee  head  which  peeped  from  'neath  a  leaf. 
The  hen  with  swift  wing  whirred  away  in  flight, 
But  soon  stole  back  and  seeing  nought  to  fright 
She  gave  soft  call  to  claim  again  her  chicks. 

Deep  in  the  wood,  the  maid  with  noiseless  tread, 
Stole  shadow-like  upon  a  spotted  fawn 
Which  lay  as  still  as  were  the  ashen  leaves 
And  branches  of  the  broken  tree  'mongst  which 
It  couched  and  blended  with  the  forest's  floor. 
And  yet  it  stirred  not  though  she  stood  so  close 
That  with  her  hand  she  might  have  touched  its  ear. 
Amongst  the  rushy  pools  beside  the  stream 
She  saw  a  wary  wild-duck  with  her  brood 
In  morning  quest  of  snails  and  polliwogs. 
And  one  time  with  a  broken  branch  she  drew 
An  overhanging  limb  to  her  canoe, 
And  saw  within  a  lichen-covered  nest 
Two  tiny  milk-white  eggs  of  humming  bird, 
While  round  the  sycamore  in  rapid  flight 
The  anxious  ruby-throated  builders  flashed. 

Thus  up  the  Arimoni  passed  the  maid, 
And  by  the  river's  marge  and  on  the  slopes, 
Found  never-ending  wonders  of  the  wild, — 
Soft  floors  of  luscious  moss  where  fairy  hordes 
Might  hold  high  carnival  on  moonlit  nights; 
Rank  liverwort  whose  waves  of  blue  and  green 
Splash  spumelike  up  the  beetling  walls  of  cliff; 


100  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Wide  beds  of  fern  and  bracken  where  the  fox, 

A  wary  Robin  Hood,  creeps  stealthily, 

And  preys  on  life  less  skilled  in  craft  than  he. 

Here  climbing  over  massive  walls  of  rock 

Warped  by  the  agony  of  hidden  fires 

Long  ages  since,  and  there  again  where  streams 

With  chiselling  force  had  carved  fantastic  forms, 

And  in  the  deeper  mazes  of  the  wood 

In  burrow,  nest,  and  covert  nook  she  found 

The  secret  treasures  of  the  forest  folk. 

And  ever  as  she  moved  among  their  haunts, 

She  echoed  back  in  perfect  mimicry, 

The  cry  and  call  of  every  vagrant  bird. 

So  through  the  morning  hours  she  passed  up  stream, 

And  ranged  through  many  a  shadowy  flower-lit  glen, 

And  came  at  length  upon  a  water  fall 

Where  broken  cliffs  lay  heaped  in  shattered  ranks. 

Here  baby  rainbows  played  among  the  mists, 

And  wreathed  the  bowlders  with  their  roseate  bands, 

While  laughter  rippled  through  the  rushing  flow, 

And  mournful  spirits  of  the  dead  tribes  sang 

Their  requiem  in  tuneful  monotone. 

A  little  space  apart  Neonee  sought 

A  mossy  seat  beneath  a  thick-leaved  beech, 

Where  she  might  watch  unseen  the  path  and  stream, 

And  hear  the  droning  of  the  waterfall, 

And  dream  among  the  shadows  of  the  wood. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  101 

The  past  rose  pageant-like  before  her  eyes, 

And  in  a  wigwam  by  a  brawling  stream 

She  saw  herself,  an  Indian  child,  first  note 

The  scenes  that  wrote  themselves  in  memory. 

Around  her  home  the  other  wigwams  stood, 

And  stretching  over  mountains  and  rough  hills, 

Vast,  lonely,  dripping  wastes  of  solitude. 

And  through  these  scenes  Monongonee,  then  young, 

Stalked  like  a  fiend  on  evil  errand  bent, 

His  lodge  more  turbulent  than  was  the  stream 

That  raged  outside.     She  fled  his  cruel  blows 

And  spent  the  hours  in  ranging  through  the  wood, 

And  learning  secrets  from  the  creatures  there, 

And  luring  them  to  her  with  mimic  cries, — 

The  love  call  of  the  moose,  the  bleat  of  fawn, 

The  bark  of  reynard  and  the  chirp  of  squirrel. 

The  veery  answered  her  with  silvery  call, 

The  blackbird  left  his  willow  perch  to  learn 

What  mate  with  sweeter  note  piped  in  reply, 

And  like  a  golden  flute  the  hermit-thrush 

Let  fall  his  answering  song  at  eventide. 

Upon  her  seat  beneath  the  beechen  tent, 
Her  waking  vision  saw  the  unhappy  train 
Of  scenes  of  vice  and  wretched  cruelty, 
The  ragings  of  the  fierce  Monongonee, 
His  fits  of  temper  and  his  brutal  blows, 
The  lodge's  stream  of  wild  pernicious  deeds, 
Through  all  of  which  she'd  been  preserved  unscathed. 
Before  her  passed  her  lovers  in  review, 


102  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Unwelcome,  unrewarded  in  their  suits; 
And  most  disliked,  Monongonee's  young  brave, 
Who  with  him  kept  the  camp  in  wild  tumult, 
And  ever  urged  his  quest  with  zeal  and  heat. 

Amongst  these  figures  of  her  mental  train, 

One  rose  in  manlier  form,  Ottonoway, — 

The  thought  of  whom  encouraged  happier  mood, 

For  with  the  passing  of  the  months,  their  love 

Had  ripened  for  the  nuptial  day  to  dawn 

When  Sieur  La  Salle  should  so  arrange  his  plans 

To  give  the  hunter  guide  his  pledged  release. 

In  fancy  now  she  saw  him  as  her  eyes 

Beheld  him  first  in  camp  below  the  Rock, 

Where  with  La  Salle  he  stood  upon  the  shore, 

When  with  the  squaw  she'd  brought  Chief  Mogree's 

gift. 
She  saw  him  as  he  climbed  the  Eagle  Cliff, 
A  victor  in  the  great  race  of  the  day 
The  fort  was  opened  when  he'd  won  the  prize. 
And  saw  him,  too,  as  none  else  had,  as  oft 
They'd  met  at  trysting  places  in  the  wood. 

And  now  as  though  her  dream  to  substance  changed 

She  looked  along  the  path  beyond  her  seat, 

And  there  among  the  shadows  of  the  trail, 

She  saw  her  lover  pass  below  the  rocks, 

And  on  the  instant  saw  him  pause  alert, 

As  broke  the  sobbing  of  a  whippoorwill 

Upon  the  stillness  of  the  afternoon. 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  103 

A  moment  more,  a  great  owl's  booming  note 
Is  heard  above  the  roaring  waterfall, 
And  soon  the  seat  beneath  the  screening  boughs 
Has  been  discovered  by  the  observant  chief, 
And  he  has  reached  the  Indian  maiden's  side. 
The  few  brief  hours  till  June's  fair  day  is  done 
Speed  by,  and  down  the  Arimoni's  course, 
On  moonlight's  silvery  trail,  Ottonoway 
Guides  carefully  Neonee's  fragile  barque, 
And  rounding  on  the  mother  stream  they  move 
Against  the  current  to  Kaskaskia's  door. 

4.    AS  FLIES  THE  CROW 

Time  in  La  Vantum  wearied  on  his  march, 

And  bivouaced  in  the  midst  of  tedious  days, 

And  listless  sat  upon  the  river  bank. 

And  watched  the  sluggish  Illinois  glide  by 

While  August  dyed  the  land  with  drab  and  gray. 

The  squaws  awoke  at  morn  and  built  their  fires, 

And  fed  tTieir  surly  overlords  who  lounged 

In  shady  spots  or  scattered  to  the  wood; 

The  women  wandered  wide  in  search  of  food, 

And  day  wore  on  unbroken  by  a  sound, 

Except  perchance  a  shout,  or  wolf  cub's  snarl 

Provoked  by  baiting  thrusts  of  Indian  lads. 

Then  with  the  waning  of  the  afternoon, 

The  gleaning  squaws   returned,   refreshed  their  fires, 

Prepared  the  game  and  fish  their  lords  brought  in, 

And  so  performed  their  tiresome  round  of  tasks. 


104  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Whilst  thus  the  town  pursued  its  usual  course, 

Neonee  and  Ottonoway,  one  eve, 

Far  from  the  village  strayed  upon  the  bluffs, 

And  came  to  Horse  Shoe  Canyon's  rim  and  sat 

An  hour  above  the  western  gorge  and  talked 

Of  matters  pleasing  to  their  lover's  mood. 

A  crow  tamed  by  the  maid  accompanied  them, 

And  with  odd  antics  added  to  their  sport. 

Their  talk  in  part  was  of  the  lodge  and  fort, 

And  plans  for  future  prospects  when  the  guide 

Should  be  recalled  to  Canada  and  take 

Neonee  as  his  bride  to  far  Quebec. 

"Now  what  if  I  should  put  you  to  the  test 

And  go  not  lest  you  won  another  race?" 

Neonee  said.     "Suppose  I  pitted  you 

Against  my  bright-winged  crow  and  made  the  terms, 

And  only  went  if  you  should  win  the  race." 

She  forward  leaned  and  looked  far  down  beneath, 

Where  eighty  feet  below  the  rope-like  vines 

Began  their  tortuous  climb  to  trees  above, 

Then  turning  to  Ottonoway  she  said, 

"Suppose  that  you  were  down  there  in  the  glen, 

And  I  with  Master  Crow  were  sitting  here, 

And  I  should  bid  you  come  to  me  before 

My  bird  should  fly  the  half  leaugue  to  the  fort, 

And  then  return,  and  you  failed  first  to  win, 

And  I  refused  to  go  to  old  Quebec, 

What  then?     These  losers  make  such  sorry  mates 

We  maidens  do  not  wish  their  company." 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  105 

Thus  challenged,  forward  bent  Ottonoway 

And  studied  long  the  glen  and  rocky  wall, 

The  rope-like  vines  and  ledges  on  the  cliff, 

Then  in  his  turn  he  smiled  at  her  and  said, 

"I  do  not  lose:  for  see  that  vine  far  down 

Beside  the  rock  which  guards  yon  shining  pool, 

I  take  my  stand  there  with  my  hunter's  knife; 

Now  start  your  bird,  I  simply  cut  my  vine 

And  climb  the  rock  and  as  I  reach  its  top, 

Your  crow  is  at  the  lonely  Witch's  Cave. 

With  my  free  vine  I  swing  across  yon  space 

To  that  high  ledge  where  ferns  and  woodbine  grow; 

Your  pet  is  flying  over  Wildcat  Canyon  now; 

I  creep  along  the  ferny  shelf  until  I  reach 

That  second  vine  you  see  beside  the  bush, 

And  as  I  cut  it,  round  the  Devil's  Nose 

Your  tame  bird  flies  to  circle  o'er  the  fort. 

I  swing  once  more,  this  time  across  the  glen, 

And  drop  among  the  bushes  where  I  point. 

Your  crow  has  scarcely  reached  the  Eagle  Cliff 

On  his  return  when  I  am  climbing  up 

By  bush  and  limb  the  intervening  space. 

And  while  the  Bee-hive  Mound  he  has  just  passed, 

Before  his  shadow  falls  on  Pulpit  Rock, 

I've  scrambled  up  and  reached  your  seat  and  won, 

And  now  claim  hand  and  pledge  and  lover's  right." 

With  this  he  kissed  the  Indian  maiden's  lips 

And  sat  with  her  in  lover's  close  embrace, 

And  watched  the  evening  colors  shift  and  fade 

Upon  the  canyon's  rugged  fern-draped  walls. 


106  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Although  Neonee  was  in  mind  assured 

Her  lover  might  accomplish  as  he  said, 

Still  seeming  unconvinced  she  made  reply, 

uAh  well,  it's  far  away  to  old  Quebec! 

Your  vine  may  break  and  you  come  tumbling  down, 

And  Master  Crow  and  I  be  left  to  wail." 

Meantime  the  bird  had  ranged  at  happy  will, 

And  now  sat  scolding  on  a  black-oak  bough 

Short  distance  to  the  rear.     A  fallen  tree 

With  tangled  mass  reclined  below  his  perch, 

And  here  from  limb  to  limb  he  nimbly  hopped, 

And  fretted  with  impatient  piercing  cries, 

As  though  a  crafty  fox  or  stealthy  lynx 

Were  hiding  in  the  broken  mass  of  limbs. 

The  lovers  quickly  noting  this  advanced, 

When  Ouma  rose  amongst  the  prostrate  boughs, 

And  stole  away  shamefaced  yet  hot  with  rage. 

"I  hate  that  sneaking  wolf,"  Neonee  said, 

"He's  stalked  us  here  to  spy  upon  our  plans, 

And  if  he  only  dared  would  do  us  harm." 

Ottonoway  made  no  reply,  but  watched 

His  rival  disappear  among  the  trees. 

But  when  before  the  week  had  run  its  course 

The  hapless  crow  was  found,  a  ruffled  mass, 

Its  head  wrung  from  its  neck,  beside  a  path 

Close  by  La  Vantum,  both  the  lovers  knew 

The  deed  was  Ouma's,  though  no  proof  was  found. 


BOOK  VI. 

1.    THE  AUGUST  BLIGHT 

How  fades  the  freshness  of  the  springtime  growth 
In  field  and  grove  and  by  the  dried  up  streams, 
As  though  the  furnace  glow  of  summer's  heat 
Had  scorched  the  living  green  to  faded  brown. 
The  plastic  forms  of  April's  budding  art, 
The  sheen  and  vigor  of  the  leaf  and  shoot, 
The  masses  of  upspringing  shrub  and  plant, 
Absorb  the  lassitude  of  passing  days 
And  weary  of  their  beauty,  grace,  and  strength, 
They  droop  bedraggled,  dull,  and  token  death. 
The  mantling  ivy,  climbing  o'er  the  cliff, 
The  early  sign  of  autumn  color  shows; 
The  maples  in  the  dried  and  fissured  swamps 
Their  inner  leaves  be-dye  with  crimson  hue. 
The  forest's  undergrowth  which  struggled  long 
Against  the  oppression  of  its  loftier  kind, 
Resigns  to  nature's  slow  and  blighting  grip. 
Dull  browns  and  withered  grays  with  mocking  hues 
Of  coming  death  now  fill  the  landscape  where 
A  few  short  months  before  the  healthy  green 
Of  vigorous  life  was  showing  everywhere. 

The  river  islands  frowzy  with  their  growth 
Of  reeds  and  rushes,  ragweed,  dock  and  cress, 


108  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Have  lost  their  Maytime  freshness,  and  repose 
Like  weary  beggars  sprawling  in  the  sun, 
Unkempt,  forlorn  and  dressed  in  faded  brown. 
The  canyons  now  are  silent  haunts  of  gloom, 
Where  rocks  in  naked  ugliness  are  strown; 
No  grateful  streamlet  murmurs  on  its  course, 
And  plant  leaves  shrivel  on  the  thin-soiled  shelves. 
Nor  less  the  languor  on  the  sultry  plain, 
Where  drouth  has  bleached  the  grass,  and  placed  her 

seal 
On  faded  flowers  and  stalks  of  sturdy  weeds 
Which  lift  their  leaden  heads  above  the  sward 
And  pale  with  sicklier  hue  beneath  the  sun. 
The  dewless  night  lets  down  her  sable  pall 
And  covers  heated  plain  and  withering  wood, 
And  hot  winds  stir  and  sigh  amid  the  grass. 
The  bison  snorts  and  rolls  his  anxious  eye 
And  sniffs  afar  the  coming  prairie  fire. 
Then  as  the  red  tide  sweeps  the  tindery  plain, 
It  drives  before  its  hot  and  billowy  surge 
The  hapless  creatures  of  the  grazing  lands, 
And  only  halts  along  the  timbered  streams. 

2.     LA  SALLE'S  LAMENT 

The  half  spent  August  afternoon  was  on, 
The  sunlight  shimmered  on  the  Illinois, 
And  glinted  on  the  sea  of  leafy  green 
Around  St.  Louis  on  its  castled  Rock. 
No  note  of  bird  nor  call  of  waterfowl 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  109 

Was  heard  in  forest  or  along  the  stream; 

The  blazing  heat  and  deep  intensity 

Of  silence  brooded  over  everything. 

The  sentinel  upon  his  watch  half  drowsed, 

And  looked  with  sleepy  eyes  upon  the  group 

Of  trappers  sprawled  within  the  grateful  shade 

Of  pine  and  oak  which  on  the  summit  grew. 

Within  the  shadow  of  the  fort  apart, 
The  Sieur  La  Salle  with  faithful  Tonti  sat 
And  thus  communed  upon  his  plans  and  work: 
"Do  you  recall,"  said  he,  "the  promise  shown 
In  this  fair  enterprise  when  we  began? 
The  scattered  tribes  convened  at  Council  Cave 
From  ranges  full  two  hundred  miles  away, 
Along  the  Mississippi  and  Des  Moines, 
And  from  Ohio's  tributaries  south, 
And  from  the  sources  of  the  Kankakee. 
Remember  you  that  morning  when  the  tribes 
Came  down  the  Illinois  and  from  the  west? 
The  stream  was  all  alive  with  water  craft, 
And  bands  came  in  across  the  plains  as  well. 
Remember  how  they  drove  their  tests  on  us, 
And  we  replied,  "Our  Father  over  seas 
Has  sent  us  here  with  tokens  of  regard 
And  pleges  of  undying  loyalty. 
But  form  this  stanch  confederacy  with  us 
And  we  will  build  a  fort  on  this  high  Rock 
Where  all  may  stand  against  the  Iroquois. 
Remember,  too,  how  when  the  fort  was  reared, 


110  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

And  France's  banner  waved  above  its  roof, 

We  called  again  the  tribes  to  celebrate, 

And  gave  assurances  anew  to  them 

That  we  would  here  protect  their  homes  and  fields. 

And  see  with  what  implicit  confidence 

They've  rested  on  our  word." 

He  flung  his  hand, 
And  claimed  the  valley  with  his  gestured  sweep, 
And  Tonti,  following  with  his  gaze,  looked  down 
Upon  the  Indian  huts  and  fields  of  corn, 
A  paradise  of  plenty  in  the  wild. 
Around  the  clearing's  edges  might  be  seen 
The  lodges  woven  from  the  rushes'  growth, 
The  cabins  built  from  bark,  and  further  west, 
The  sunlight  falling  on  the  village  roofs. 

Then  Sieur  La  Salle  resumed:    "See  how  they've  come, 

Miamis,  Weas,  Ottawas,  and  all, — 

Full  twenty  thousand  souls;  and  we  perch  here 

Upon  this  Rock  like  helpless  birds;  our  fort 

Strong  only  in  its  name  and  natural  site; 

One  breath  of  animated  power  against 

Its  gates,  and  all  our  work  comes  crashing  down; 

Less  than  a  hundred  pounds  of  powder  now 

Within  our  magazines;  our  goods  all  spent, 

Our  fleets  delayed  and  held  beyond  the  Lakes; 

My  credit  undermined  by  crafty  foes, 

Designing  spies  at  work  among  us  here, 

The  Church  suspicious  of  our  every  move, 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  111 

And  New  France  blind  to  her  own  best  concern. 

What  hope  is  there?     O  Tonti,  could  you  know 

The  cruel  crushing  of  one's  lifetime  plans! 

I  would  have  builded  here  for  France  and  King 

An  Empire  vaster  than  the  motherland, 

But  Canada  is  full  of  jealousy, 

And  merchant,  priest,  and  Governor  combine 

To  throttle  every  promising  device. 

We  may  as  well  write  Ichabod  aloft 

Upon  the  banner  of  our  fort,  unless 

Some  power  unseen  give  aid  to  our  designs. 

The  withering  blight  of  summer's  blazing  heat 

Has  sapped  the  springtime  verdure  of  our  plans, 

And  all  is  ready  for  devouring  fires." 

Throughout  the  hours  of  afternoon  and  eve 

The  men  reviewed  their  plans  upon  the  Rock, 

And  Tonti  well  performed  the  role  of  friend, 

But  strove  in  vain  to  lift  depression's  shade, 

For  deeply  overcast  by  clouds  of  fate, 

La  Salle's  heroic  nature  might  not  stand 

Unmoved  the  onslaughts  of  base  treacheries, 

And  hopes  delayed  make  kingliest  hearts  grow  sick. 

But  as  the  evening  hours  advanced  there  came 

At  length  another  actor  on  the  scene, 

Who  nerved  the  Man  of  Iron  for  new  tasks. 

For  while  the  moonbeams  fell  on  Eagle  Cliff, 

And  flooded  it  with  soft  transforming  light, 

Somewhere  from  'mongst  its  shadows  spake  a  voice, 

As  though  an  Indian  prophet  long  repressed, 


112  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

And  courting  safety  in  an  unknown  tongue, 
In  general  terms  and  veiled  speech  gave  vent 
To  hate,  revenge,  and  plot  of  overthrow. 
The  message  falling  on  the  silent  night 
In  accents  vibrant  with  the  speaker's  mood 
Was  this: 

"Proud  Fort  upon  thy  boasted  Rock, 
The  tide  will  rise  and  climb  and  beat  thee  down, 
And  bear  thy  ruin  on  its  raging  breast. 
The  tide  will  rise  and  spread  and  fill  the  vale 
With  panic,  battle,  blood,  and  torture  fires. 
Before  the  snows  shall  fall  and  winter  come, 
The  tide  will  rise,  the  tide  will  rise." 

It  ceased, 
And  Sieur  La  Salle  to  Tonti  turned  and  said, 
"Know  you  that  tongue?     I  learned  it  years  ago, 
While  ranging  far  beyond  the  Ohio's  flow. 
It  is  the  Tuscarora  dialect, 
And  if  I  guess  aright,  Monongonee 
Is  now  among  the  prophets,  and  the  voice 
We  heard  is  his.     I  thank  him  well,  for  now 
My  course  is  clear:     I'll  cut  the  Gordian  knot; 
Tomorrow  I  shall  leave  for  Canada 
To  hasten  forward  our  delayed  supplies; 
On  you  will  rest  the  keeping  of  the  fort." 

3.    THE  IROQUOIS 

As  through  some  fair  and  peaceful  valley  scene, 
A  flood  sweeps  down  from  broken  reservoir 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  113 

And  leaves  behind  the  wreckage  of  its  wrath, 
With  fertile  meadows  gashed  and  trees  uptorn, 
And  rocks  bestrown,  and  happy  homes  despoiled, 
And  death  and  sorrow  in  its  baneful  wake, 
So  came  the  fierce  and  wolf-like  Iroquois 
To  spoil  the  valley  of  the  Illinois. 

The  harvest  moon  was  at  its  full  that  eve; 

La  Salle  was  gone  a  month;  not  yet  arrived 

The  weapons  and  supplies  from  Canada; 

And  as  the  sun  went  down  and  moonlight  shone, 

Dark  figures  stole  along  the  shadowy  paths, 

And  unsuspected  set  their  ambuscades. 

Ottonoway  was  taken  on  the  trail, 

Returning  heavy  weighted  from  his  hunt, 

And  bound  and  gagged  before  a  shot  was  fired. 

A  rush  was  made  against  the  fort's  high  gate, 

But  watchful  eyes  and  valorous  hands  made  safe 

This  vantage  point,  and  then  a  cannon  boomed, 

The  rifles  spit  their  sharp  and  vengeful  fire, 

And  instantly  the  savage  war-whoop  broke, 

A  mile  away  upon  the  other  shore, 

Around  Kaskaskia's  doomed  and  hapless  huts. 

The  way  to  safety  on  the  Rock  was  blocked, 

As  rushed  the  natives  through  the  fields  of  maize 

To  find  protection  in  the  wastes  beyond. 

Then  fire-brands  flashed  and  mocking  flames  leaped  up, 

And  shamed  the  startled  moon  with  her  mild  glare, 

As  they  devoured  the  huts  of  reed  and  bark, 

And  fed  upon  the  rush-mats  of  the  lodge. 


114  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

And  in  the  brightness  of  these  burning  fires, 
The  Iroquois  struck  down  with  ruthless  blows 
Old  men  and  squaws  and  helpless  Indian  babes, 
And  bound  the  warriors  captured  in  their  flight, 
Or  shot  them  as  they  fled  the  holocaust. 
Along  the  clearing's  edge  the  fierce  flames  raged 
Wherever  stood  a  Redman's  hut  or  lodge; 
The  scaffolds  of  the  dead  were  overthrown, 
And  skulls  left  grinning  on  the  stakes  and  posts. 

So  all  night  long  the  lurid  bursts  of  flame 

Lit  up  the  valley  and  the  river  shore, 

And  only  with  the  morning  came  the  calm 

When  for  a  little  time  the  spoilers  slept, 

Then  through  the  hours  they  stalked  their  harried  prey, 

And  added  other  prisoners  to  the  group. 

The  Fort  was  watched,  yet  feared  and  left  alone, 

But  all  La  Vantum's  trails  were  dyed  with  blood. 

And  with  the  coming  of  the  night  once  more, 

The  Iroquois  drew  in  their  skirmish  lines, 

Passed  by  the  fort  well  out  of  rifle  range 

And  took  their  captives  to  the  torture  grounds 

Before  the  entrance  to  the  Horse  Shoe  Glen, 

A  half  league  distant  from  the  silent  fort, 

And  hidden  by  the  intervening  bluffs. 

Amongst  these  prisoners,  Ottonoway, 
Lashed  firmly  to  a  fellow  captive  marched, 
And  well  he  knew  his  pathway  led  to  death, 
But  quailed  not  as  he  forward  urged  his  steps, 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  115 

Resolved  his  captors  see  no  trace  of  fear. 
Throughout  the  hideous  night  and  hours  of  day, 
He'd  sat  with  other  captives  herded  close 
Within  a  pen  where  bear-cubs  oft  were  kept. 
Monongonee  and  Ouma   sometimes  came, 
And  baited  him  with  laughter  and  with  scorn, 
And  well  he  knew  that  he  was  in  their  power, 
And  they  in  league  with  these  inhuman  wolves 
Who  spoiled  by  fire  and  ruthless  tomahawk. 
And  oft  his  mind  reverted  to  the  glen 
Across  the  plain  by  Arimoni's  flood, 
And  knew  these  scenes  the  fruitage  of  the  plot 
Arranged  upon  Deer  Canyon's  cavelike  shelf. 
But  now  his  dolorous  march  to  death  was  on; 
The  captive  band  was  ferried  o'er  the  stream, 
And  as  they  climbed  the  bank  his  eye  took  in 
The  plain  of  fire,  the  row  of  torture  stakes, 
The  wall  of  cliff,  where,  on  a  little  way, 
He'd  sat  beside  Neonee  not  long  since, 
And  planned  their  bridal  trip  across  the  Lakes. 

Then  broke  the  horrors  of  that  cruel  night 

Upon  the  hapless  captive  Indian  throng, 

And  through  the  cruel  hours  of  agony 

The  Iroquois  prolonged  their  arts  of  pain, 

Till  hell  had  given  loathesome  offspring  birth, 

And  having  born  her  vicious  progenies, 

And  breathed  within  their  nostrils  breath  of  hate 

And  rabid  cruelty,  at  once  recoiled, 

Ashamed  and  terrified  to  claim  her  kind. 


116  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

The  screaming  child  was  flung  upon  the  flames, 
The  ravished  maiden  mocked  and  bound  and  burned, 
The  breasts  cut  from  the  squaw  with  heated  knives, 
The  warrior's  fingers  crushed,  his  eyes  gouged  out, 
The  flaming  powder  flashed  upon  his  brain 
To  wrench  from  him  a  last  expiring  groan. 

Thus  passed  the  hours  with  knife  and  fire  at  play 

To  sate  the  savage  lust  of  cruelty. 

And  when  at  length  the  fiendish  Iroquois 

Have  done  to  brutal  death  the  captive  band, 

And  formed  a  circle  for  the  vicious  close, 

Monongonee  leads  in  Ottonoway, 

And  flings  him  loose  before  the  savage  throng, 

A  curdling  yell  from  half  a  thousand  throats 

Resounds  to  add  new  terrors  to  the  night. 

Monongonee  for  silence  lifts  his  hand, 

The  circle  quiets  while  the  scarred  chief  speaks 

To  tell  Ottonoway  his  secret  hate. 

"Before  we  kill  you  here  to-night,  know  this: 

A  score  of  years  ago  your  tribe  attacked 

The  Tuscaroras  in  their  southern  home 

And  broke  my  people's  power  and  drove  us  thence. 

I  found  a  lodgement  with  the  Iroquois, 

And  swore  revenge  against  you  and  the  French, 

With  whom  you  were  allied.     In  settlements 

Along  the  Richelieu  and  near  Quebec, 

I  worked  my  will  and  notched  my  tomahawk, 

But  lost  it  in  those  northern  wilds  one  night, 

And  took  a  half  breed  baby  as  my  toll 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  117 

To  cheer  my  weeping  squaw  who'd  lost  her  child. 
You  know  her  as  Neonee,  woman  grown, 
But  Ouma  now  shall  claim  her  as  his  bride; 
We've  brought  her  here  to  see  her  lover's  fate. 
I  with  the  Iroquois  came  west  and  sacked 
This  town  Kaskaskia,  but  three  years  ago. 
'Twas  later  planned  that  I,  as  spy,  should  come 
And  watch  our  foes  before  we  next  returned, 
And  so  with  wounds, — sham  wounds, — I  tricked  the 

tribes, 
Dissembled  hate  against  the  Iroquois, 
And  drew  about  me  people  of  my  kind, — 
How  well  we've  worked  the  valley  shows  to-night. 
And  had  not  Tonti  guarded  well  his  gates, 
That  boasted  fort  had  now  in  ashes  lain. 
But  we  have  you  and  my  revenge  is  sweet, 
And  heated  knives  and  fingers  crushed  and  split, 
Will  be  but  child's  play  to  the  torture  pains 
Which  Ouma  and  myself  will  work  on  you." 

With  this  the  pair  advanced,  when  suddenly, 

Upon  the  bluff  a  hundred  feet  above 

A  figure  stood,  bathed  in  the  moon's  clear  light, 

And  Tonti's  clarion  voice  commanded,  "Stay." 

Each  warrior  gazed  upon  the  moonlit  form, 

Unconscious  that  within  the  shadows  lay 

Twelve  soldiers  with  their  rifles  cocked  and  primed, 

Awaiting  but  their  leader's  word  to  fire. 

The  Indians  saw  but  Tonti  on  the  cliff, 

And  heard  him  speak  to  them  in  measured  terms: 


118  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

"Your  captive  is  the  guide  of  Sieur  La  Salle; 
Deliver  him  unscathed  within  the  hour 
Before  the  high  gate  yonder  at  the  fort, 
Or  here  I  pledge  the  power  of  France  will  yet 
Again  lay  low  your  distant  towns  and  camps, 
As  when  Champaign  despoiled  your  villages. 
Here  is  the  challenge  which  I  fling  to  you." 

He  threw  far  out  above  the  maple  tops 

The  tomahawk  he  carried  in  his  hand; 

It  fell  within  the  circled  Indian  throng 

Before  the  feet  of  wild  Monongonee. 

With  savage  shout  he  picked  the  weapon  up 

And  held  it  where  it  caught  the  firelight's  gleam, 

"It's  mine,"  he  cried,  "I  lost  it  long  ago, 

But  what  are  these  rough  words  cut  on  the  blade  ?n 

Then  to  the  guide  he  said,  "Read  this  for  me." 

Ottonoway  the  weapon  took  and  read, 

"  'Sui  a  tue'  on  le  tuera  par  ca, 

He  who  has  slain  by  this  shall  he  be  slain.'  " 

At  this  Monongonee  raised  high  his  fist, 

And  shook  it  at  the  figure  on  the  rock, 

And  shouted  in  the  Tuscarora  tongue, 

"Burn!  kill!  do  what  you  please!     I'll  have  revenge, 

And  have  it  here  within  this  circle's  bound." 

But  even  as  he  spoke  death  quickly  fell, 
Ottonoway  drove  home  the  tomahawk, 
And  raising  it  broke  through  the  shattered  ring 
With  leaps  as  quick  as  spring  of  catamount, 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  119 

And  started  on  a  fateful  race  with  death, 
The  Indians  yelling  fiercely  in  his  wake. 

Run  for  thy  life,  brave  hunter  guide,  the  wolves 
Of  Onondagua's  forests  trail  thy  track 
With  feet  well-nigh  as  swift  as  are  your  own. 
Run,  for  the  massive  walls  of  cliff  will  soon 
Hem  in  thy  steps  and  stay  thy  speedy  flight, 
The  torturers'  hands  are  almost  gripping  thee. 
With  loud  exultant  cries  the  Iroquois 
Pursue,  and  see  their  victim  take  the  path 
That  leads  him  straight  within  the  western  glen. 
But  little  space  ahead  the  moon-washed  walls 
Rise  sheer,   forbidding,   cold, — a  man-trap  they, 
Among  the  bluffs,  no  footholds  on  their  sides 
Short  of  a  ledge  that  runs  some  twenty  feet 
Above  the  broken  rock  beside  the  pool 
Where  grew  the  vines  that  climbed  the  cliff  to  find 
Their  hold  upon  the  treetops  high  above. 
With  tomahawk  upraised  Ottonoway 
Turned  for  a  second,  gave  the  death  halloo, 
Then  bounded  sidewise  like  a  startled  deer, 
And  grasped  a  rope-like  vine  and  held  it  fast 
The  while  he  dealt  it  one  quick  skillful  blow 
Against  a  sapling's  trunk  and  cut  it  through. 
Then  holding  firm  the  severed  end  he  climbed 
Upon  the  broken  rock  nearby,  and  swung 
Far  out  above  the  Iroquois,  and  up 
Until  he  dropped  upon  the  ledge  and  crept 
Along  the  narrow  shelf  until  he  reached 


120  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

The  second  vine  he'd  marked  the  month  before 

When  sitting  with  Neonee  on  the  cliff. 

Again  his  weapon  cleft  the  slender  vine, 

Again  he  grasped  and  swung  across  the  glen, 

Again  he  saw  the  forms  of  hate  below, 

Again  his  feet  touched  safely  grateful  earth, 

This  time  the  spot  where  love  had  blazed  a  path, 

And  so  he  climbed  by  sapling,  vine  and  limb 

To  where  he'd  sat  beside  the  Indian  maid 

Short  weeks  before,  there  paused,  looked  down,  and 

gave 
One  curdling  yell,  defying  foeman's  hate, 
Then  vanished  in  the  shadowy,  moon-laved  night, 
And  on  the  heels  of  Tonti  reached  the  fort. 

4.    THE  LOVER'S  LEAP 

Balked  of  their  prey  the  angry  Iroquois 
Returned  to  where  the  fierce  Monongonee 
Had  met  his  fate.     In  sullen  wrath  they  raged 
Like  wolves  which  having  lipped  a  quarry's  blood 
Yet  lost  their  prey  another  victim  seek, 
And  with  a  common  instinct's  lust  for  blood, 
Their  hate  sought  out  Neonee  to  be  slain 
Because  beloved  by  him  who  had  escaped. 
But  she,  divining  what  their  wrath  might  seek 
On  their  return,  had  in  the  exciting  stir 
Slipped  silently  away  by  river  path 
Toward  the  fort.     The  squaws  had  seen  her  leave; 
She  had  not  gone  toward  the  boats  near  by, 


HE  CLIMBED  BY  SAPLING,   VINE  AND   LIMB 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  121 

Since  thus  suspicion  might  be  roused, 

But  slipped  within  the  shadows  of  the  trees, 

As  silently  as  does  the  night  itself. 

She  heard  the  voices  of  the  wood  and  stream 

As  she  gained  distance  from  the  torture  scene, — 

The  sobbing  of  the  lonely  whippoorwill, 

The  sharp  and  squalling  bark  the  she-fox  gives, 

The  long  wail  which  the  hoot-owl  voices  low, 

A  loon's  wild  laugh  amid  the  island's  reeds, 

And  once  the  faint  far  moan  of  timber  wolf 

From  distant  hills  across  the  Illinois. 

She  crept  among  the  shadows  like  a  wraith, 

But  ere  half  way  the  distance  to  the  Fort, 

The  savage  Iroquois  were  on  her  trail, 

Some  by  the  path  and  others  in  their  boats. 

And  from  her  leaf-screened  trail  she  saw  these  last 

Speed  by  and  knew  that  they  would  soon  disbark 

And  intercept  her  path.     Alarmed  she  sought 

To  change  her  course  and  reach,  by  longer  route, 

The  gateway  to  the  fort,  but  found  her  foes 

Already  In  the  line  of  her  advance. 

Compelled  again  to  take  the  river  path, 

She  stole  from  bush  to  tree  with  cautious  steps, 

And  ever  in  the  shadow  of  the  bluff 

Kept  moving  slowly  toward  the  friendly  fort. 

At  length  she  reached  the  shade  of  Eagle  Cliff, 

But  dared  not  take  the  narrow  course  that  led 

Beneath  the  pines  which  grew  along  the  shore 

And  whose  dark  limbs  hung  heavy  o'er  the  stream. 


122  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

A  sense  of  danger  warned  her  to  a  place 

Of  hiding  on  the  cliff  above  the  pines, 

And  here  she  crouched  and  watched  the  fort  lights 

gleam, 
A  bow-shot  distant  from  her  high  retreat. 
Below,  she  heard  the  river's  sullen  flow, 
And  caught  the  far  off  calls  of  birds  of  night; 
Heard,  too,  in  valley  fields  the  prowling  beasts, 
And  from  the  subtle  sounds  detected  near, 
She  knew  her  path  was  blocked  on  either  side, 
And  craft  and  cruelty  were  keeping  guard. 
A  long  hour  dragged  its  course,  then  from  the  cliff 
She  gave  the  sobbing  wail  of  whippoorwill, 
And  somewhere  from  the  pines  around  the  fort 
A  great  owl's  booming  chant  bestirred  the  night, 
Then  all  was  still. 

Meantime  Ottonoway, 
Close  after  Tonti  and  his  stalwart  troop, 
Had  reached  the  fort  and  shared  their  glad  acclaim. 
With  simple  speech  to  D'Autray  he  had  said, 
"Your  debt  is  paid,"  and  gave  the  tomahawk 
To  him  and  passed  outside  the  room  to  keep 
A  silent  vigil  on  the  high  Rock's  edge, 
For  he  surmised  his  baffled  foes  in  wrath 
Would  seek  to  wreak  their  vengeance  on  his  love. 
So  waiting  through  the  deepening  stretch  of  night 
He  read  the  signs  of  danger  on  the  flood 
Where  far  below  he  dimly  saw  canoes 
Glide  round  the  base  of  Eagle  Cliff,  and  sensed 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  123 

The  meaning  of  their  cunning  move  to  trap 

The  Indian  maid  in  passage  to  the  fort. 

He  listened,  like  Neonee,  to  the  sounds 

Which  pierced  the  silence  of  the  shadowy  night, — 

The  loon's  wild  laugh,  the  moan  of  timber-wolf, 

And,  most  intently,  to  the  whippoorwill. 

Then  when  at  length  he  heard  the  sobbing  wail 

Which  broke  upon  the  ledge  across  the  way, 

So  perfect  in  its  strain  of  mimicry, 

The  watchers  of  the  trail  suspicioned  not 

A  signal  in  the  wild  bird's  mornful  notes, 

He  knew  and  gave  the  great  owl's  answering  call. 

A  moment  more  the  sentry  at  the  gate 
Had  let  him  pass,  and  like  the  mist  he'd  gone, 
To  keep  again  a  rendezvous  with  death. 
This  time  he  crept  like  stalking  catamount 
Among  the  shadows,  till  along  the  shore 
Toward  the  west  he  found  his  birch  canoe 
And  launched  it,  then  with  wary  noiseless  dip 
Of  paddle,  dropped  away  and  swung  across 
To  other  friendly  shore,  and  so  upstream 
Until  he  rounds  the  weedy  island's  bound, 
And  then  drifts  down  along  the  southern  shore, 
As  though  himself  a  trailing  Iroquois. 
Beneath  the  pines  whose  heavy  limbs  swung  dark 
Above  the  stream  and  brushed  the  nearby  cliff 
He  stayed  his  birchen  craft,  then  gave  again 
The  long  call  of  the  owl  with  faultless  note, 
And  heard  above  him  on  the  bluff's  high  face 


124  THE  LOST  EMPIRE 

Once  more  the  wailing  of  the  whippoorwill. 

Then  through  the  sombre  branches  of  the  pine 

He  called  one  word,  a  soft  impassioned  "Come." 

And  hearing  it,  she  rose  from  fern-draped  shelf, 

Climbed  down  to  lower  ledge,  but  still  too  high 

To  reach  the  pine  top  fifteen  feet  below/; 

Here  paused,  until  once  more  her  lover's  word 

In  whispered  accents  bade  her  quickly  come, 

Then  poising,  lightly  leaped,  and  felt  the  slap 

Of  branches  in  her  face,  but  clutched  and  held, 

And  with  the  stir  of  limbs  Ottonoway 

Gave  piercing  shriek  of  hapless  catamount 

In  panther's  clutch,   and  they  who  watched  the  trail 

Thought  it  a  common  forest  tragedy. 

With  scarce  a  sound  Neonee  passed  below, 

Swung  from  the  pine's  dark  limb  to  love's  strong  arms, 

Then  lowly  crouching  in  the  birch  canoe, 

She  saw  her  lover  dip  his  paddle  deft, 

And  drift  down  stream  as  dawn  bestreaked  the  sky. 

But  wary  eyes,  with  sign  of  coming  day, 

Intently  watched  the  paths  and  water  way, 

And  as  Ottonoway  from  'neath  the  pines 

Pushed  out,  a  shout  was  raised,  and  dusky  forms 

Came  rushing  from  the  wood  to  man  the  boats 

And  intercept  his  passage  to  the  fort. 

Too  late:     the  start  was  his,  the  distance  short, 

And  ere  his  cunning  foes  had  gained  their  craft 

Ottonoway  had  ground  his  light  canoe 

Below  the  fort,  and  with  Neonee  leaped 


THE  LOST  EMPIRE  125 

Upon  the  shore  and  gained  the  lower  gate. 

Then  passing  through  they  climbed  the  timbered  stair, 

And  entered  by  the  upper  door,  and  here 

Saw  D'Autray  changing  sentries  on  the  Rock 

In  readiness  for  duty  with  the  dawn. 

Before  the  lonely  poet  of  the  wild 

The  pair  advanced  as  spoke  Ottonoway: 

"I  bring  you  home  your  daughter  lost  that  night 

The  great  storm  broke  along  the  Richelieu." 

And  looking  close  the  poet  woodsman  saw 

Her  mother's  soul  in  his  dear  daughter's  eyes, 

And  drew  her  fondly  to  his  beating  heart, 

And  lavished  names  of  tender  love  on  her, — 

The  terms  of  sweet  endearment  breathed  in  French, 

The  raptures  to  his  lips  so  long  denied. 

And  as  they  stood  united  on  the  Rock, 

The  glowing  crimson  deepened  in  the  east, 

And  shadowy  night  gave  place  to  roseate  morn. 


Still  flows  the  river  at  the  high  Rock's  base, 

Still  grow  the  forests  on  the  stately  cliffs, 

Still  speak  their  voices  from  the  tragic  past 

To  tell  a  race's  fate, — an  Empire  lost. 

When  night  wraps  stream  and  wood  with  sable  robe, 

They  whisper  each  to  other  'neath  the  stars 

The  mystic  stories  of  the  long  ago, 

The  stirring  tales  of  scout  and  pioneer, 

The  weird  traditions  of  the  races  gone, 

The  tragic  chronicle  of  destiny 

Which  ended  on  the  shore  of  Mexico. 

Gone  is  the  fort  and  gone  that  gallant  band 

Which  graced  the  Rock  and  kept  the  waterway, 

Gone,  too,  the  Redman  from  his  valley  home, 

But  on  the  extended  reach  of  his  domain, 

And  in  the  place  of  visioned  Empire  lost, 

A  mightier  people  build  a  vaster  realm, — 

Which  greets  the  sunrise  of  a  Golden  Dawn. 


'■¥" 


111 


li 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS  URBANA 
811C8442L  C001 

THE  LOST  EMPIRE  OSWEGO 


3  0112  025322402 


IHlm 

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II 


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